


At Evening's End

by manixzen



Series: At Evening's End [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Azkaban, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Inmate Draco Malfoy, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Relationship, Prison, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manixzen/pseuds/manixzen
Summary: When the dementors are removed from Azkaban, a compromise has to be made for the prison to remain secure and wizard-kind to feel safe. Harry and Ron find themselves assigned to a rotation as guards during their first year as Junior Aurors as a part of the new system. Harry finds his values challenged in the harsh environment, but an unexpected friendship may carry him through this difficult year.This will be Part 1 of a two-part series.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry sat stiffly on the bench in the small wooden boat as he was occasionally hit with spray from the sea. His _impervious_ charm was holding, but that didn’t stop the chill from the Northern Sea from cutting right through his Auror robes. Ron sputtered from beside him when a particularly nasty swell caught him off guard. Harry renewed the repelling charm on his friend.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron said, drying off his face on the sleeve of his robes. “How much longer d’you reckon?”

“Probably another half hour to the island. I’m more worried about how long it will be until we can get into our beds. I’m knackered,” Harry said, yawning. He turned to look at the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Officer who was steering the boat from the seat behind them; he looked bored as he held his wand over his shoulder, making small adjustments every few minutes to combat the waves and wind.

“Don’t let me forget to send an owl to Hermione tonight before we crash. She was pretty upset this morning when I left and I promised her I’d write her as soon as we got settled,” Ron said.

“At least we’ll have weekend leave once a month,” Harry said, trying to find a bright side in their first assignment.

They both successfully graduated from their two-year-long Auror training on Friday and spent much of their weekend at various pubs celebrating with friends. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to relax and recover from their gruelling training, or their weekend activities, as they were both assigned rotation at Azkaban starting immediately.

One of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s first orders of business as Minister was to immediately remove all dementors from Azkaban. While most wizards and witches were glad to see them go, as they’d proven to not be trustworthy allies, there was still an outcry at the idea of the prison being less securely guarded. A compromise was to be found in a rotating guard of Aurors. There were permanent guards, as well, mostly pulled out of the ranks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Division, but there were now always to be Aurors on-site as well. Aurors were the best equipped to deal with any breakout attempts and attacks, but, more importantly, they made the public feel better about their own safety.

Since no established Aurors, particularly those with families at home, were going to volunteer to go live on a god-forsaken rock in the middle of the North Sea with some of the worst witches and wizards alive, a plan was put in place. All new Aurors would be assigned for one year Azkaban duty at some point within their first three years after training was completed and they were officially Junior Aurors. After their year-long rotation was done, they would only be called back to the rotation if absolutely necessary and for shorter increments. This would be the third year for this new plan and the first year with enough new Aurors that Senior Aurors didn’t have to rotate in to provide support.

This allowed the Auror force to keep their best and most experienced talent in the field and at the Ministry. Additionally, it kept the Senior Aurors happy, and as Robards also pointed out, it would do the new Aurors some good to understand where they were sending people. And “if nothing else,” Robards had said, “It’ll toughen you lot up.”

Harry and Ron were part of a larger cohort of new Aurors than typical. They had lost more than a few Aurors through the duration of the war, and they’d received approval for a few additional positions as compensation for Aurors now being stationed at Azkaban.

Harry was beyond relieved when he found out he’d been assigned to this rotation with Ron —an assignment that he, like all the new recruits, was not looking forward to. He’d overheard one of the Senior Aurors say that both Ron and he were sent on rotation first because Robards wanted to get them in the field as soon as possible. Others from their training class would go on rotation at some point over the next three years, being stuck on the typical tasks for brand new Junior Aurors like administrative paperwork and low-risk assignments in the meantime. Even though Harry was dreading this assignment, he was glad to get it over with. If they both just grit their teeth and got through the year, they wouldn’t have to deal with another rotation for a long time, if ever.

The fortress grew larger on the horizon as the rickety boat neared the island. Harry couldn’t quite shake the chill that was permeating his entire body. He knew the dementors were gone, but somehow even at this distance, he could feel a ghost of their presence. He felt a sense of dread join the chill as he thought about having to spend an entire year here.

The centuries-old architecture of the prison reminded Harry a little of Hogwarts, if Hogwarts had never seen joy or love or even a single smile. The fortress was made entirely of rough grey stone, causing the air inside to feel more damp and chilly than the North Sea air that whipped across the island.

Harry and Ron followed the MLE officer into the prison, carrying their shrunken trunks that held all their belongings for the year. Once through the large wooden doors, they walked through several winding dark hallways. The torches on the walls gave just enough light to find one’s way but added no warmth or comfort.

The offices were on the main floor, just a little way down from the main entrance. As they walked into the front office, they saw two Aurors sitting in stuffed chairs with bags and shrunken trunks in front of them in what appeared to be a make-shift waiting area. To their left, two MLE officers sat at their desks, hunched over paperwork, and looked up in acknowledgment as Harry and Ron walked in the door behind the officer from the boat.

“About time!” said Alicia Spinnet as she saw them come through the doors. She had been the only new Auror to complete training in the last few years due to the war, so she had been partnered with different Senior Aurors that came on a month-long rotation all year.

“Hey,” Harry said, shaking her hand in greeting. Ron gave her a short wave.

“Are you two ready to go?” the officer from the boat asked Alicia and Auror Savage, who had just stood up from his chair.

“Absolutely,” replied Alicia.

“Aurors Potter and Weasley,” Auror Savage said in greeting. “We can call you that now, right? You both managed to pass your exams, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said smiling.

“Well good, we’ll both be glad to get the hell out of here.” He clapped Ron on the shoulder as he moved towards the door.

“Anything we should know?” Ron asked Alicia as she grabbed her belongings.

“Other than this place has all the charm of a dementor’s playground? And the excitement of raising flobberworms?” She headed towards the door, following the MLE officer and Savage, relief clearly written on her face. “Have fun!” She called out behind her.

Another MLE officer walked into the office from what looked to be a connecting office. He was a larger, strongly built man with short brown hair that was greying slightly on the sides. He looked like a man you didn’t want to mess with.

“Aurors Potter and Weasley. Welcome,” he said. “I’m Officer Durum, and I’m a shift supervisor here. The prison has two shift supervisors, six permanent MLE guards, a Healer, and several officers as support staff members here. This here is Miller and Thame.” The two officers looked up and nodded at the two Aurors. Harry and Ron nodded back.

“This is the main office, we receive visitors here and run checks on them.” He nodded towards the two chairs that Alicia and Auror Savage had been sitting in. “Very few inmates receive visitors—only immediate family are allowed and few are interested in making the journey out here. But, we will occasionally have visitors here on business from the Ministry. Otherwise, the only people you’ll see in here are MLE patrol officers or Aurors. Follow me.”

Durum walked them over to a short hallway that came out of the other side of the main office. There were only a few doors down each side.

“Offices are down here. You’ll be sharing this office here,” he said, opening a door to a small cramped space that held two desks placed up against opposite walls, at each desk was an uncomfortable looking wooden chair. He closed the door and continued to walk down the hallway pointing out offices and who worked in each one.

They walked into a somewhat larger office at the end of the hall. It had several large cabinets lining three of the walls and a desk and chair pushed up against the wall to the right.

“This is the records room. The prisoner’s files are all kept here,” Officer Durum said, gesturing to a drawer in the cabinet next to the desk.

“In the next few days, read through them and familiarise yourself with the inmates. There are notes in there from other guards and previous Aurors on the prisoners—who to watch out for, past attempts at escape, assaults on guards, and so on. Some of the inmates are just better to keep clear from, they get too much joy from insulting the guards. It’s better to let them stew in their solitude. We rarely have fighting amongst prisoners as they are all kept in solitary confinement, but it’s been known to happen a time or two when moving prisoners between cells or for visitation, for those that are allowed visitors.

“Your primary job is to keep an eye on the prisoners, but you’ll also keep up daily logs for the facility and assist with prisoner transportation within the facility for new or released prisoners and for visitation. You’ll be on afternoons, with a rotating weekend schedule with one weekend off a month with shore leave.”

“If they are all stuck in their cells day and night, what exactly are we doing to keep an eye on them?” Ron asked.

“Just walk by their cells and make sure there aren’t any problems. We have an infirmary for sick prisoners. Of course, most of them try to fake it just to get out of their cells for a while, so only bring them down there if they look close to death.” Durum laughed at his own joke. “And, make sure they aren’t trying to hurt themselves either—wouldn’t want them to get out of their sentence prematurely,” Durum said with a grin that turned Harry’s stomach.

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” Durum said, walking back toward the main office and to the hallway that would lead back to the rest of the prison. Harry and Ron dutifully followed, sharing a look between them. This was going to be a long year.

Harry sat down with a pile of inmate files in the records room. He was feeling too nerved up to sleep even with the exhausted stated he’d arrived in. They’d followed Durum around the prison, through the three floors of cells, the kitchen where several house elves prepared food for both prisoners and staff, the infirmary, which was really just two rooms with beds and a nearby office for the Healer, the visitation rooms, and finally, their rooms which were on the second floor just above the offices.

Ron and Harry each got a small suite of rooms. The sitting room had two worn stuffed chairs and a hearth. A small kitchenette was along the wall opposite the hearth, but Harry wasn’t sure it would be good for more than making tea. He assumed he’d take most meals in the staff dining room off the main kitchens. On the back wall of the sitting room were two doors. One led to a cramped bedroom with a small bed against one wall and a nightstand. The other went to a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. All basic necessities had been provided for and nothing more.

Harry had tried to settle down and get some sleep, but after the second hour of tossing and turning, he threw some clothes on and decided to get to work. Might as well make use of the time, since sleep was clearly not on order.

He flipped through the files, only half reading the notes, just getting a sense for the names and crimes. While he had walked through all the cell blocks on his tour, he didn’t get a good look at most of the prisoners. They all wore identical grey rags that had probably been robes at one time, and with the exception of a few that screamed at them as they walked by, most sat huddled in on themselves in a corner of the room or on their thin mattress that sat on the hard stone floor. The only thing Durun said about them was to never open their cells unless they were restrained, ideally both physically by chains and magically.

Harry knew that everyone in these walls had committed terrible crimes to end up there, but he still felt disturbed at the notion of anyone living in these conditions. And, the idea of Sirius living here, under even worse conditions with the dementor guards, permeated his thoughts more than once that first day.

The prisoner’s files seemed to be organised by prosecution date, so he didn’t recognise any of the names at the top of the pile. Many of the crimes turned his stomach sour.

As he got deeper into the stack, he started seeing more names that he recognised: Dolohov, Rookwood. His stomach suddenly dropped out when he opened the next file. Umbridge.

She was serving life in Azkaban for war crimes, including being responsible for the torture and imprisonment of many muggle-born wizards and witches, She was also convicted of being responsible for several of their deaths, some in the very walls of that prison. Harry shuddered. Even with all that he’d seen, there were very few people he hated more than her. He was suddenly filled with dread at the idea he’d ever have to speak to her again. He wondered if he should feel some vindication to see her there, locked up and suffering, but found that while he was relieved she was locked up, he still didn’t want to see her ever again.

Harry flipped to the next file: Lucius Malfoy. Another wizard that Harry was relieved to see behind bars for the rest of his life. But, he felt a little sick to his stomach knowing what was coming next. Narcissa Malfoy, and then… Draco Malfoy.

Harry had spoken at both of their trials, for what little good it had done. He supposed that they may have wound up with longer sentences had he not spoken on their behalf. Harry knew Malfoy had done some fairly terrible things during the war, even if he felt pressured and under threat of death for some of them. But, even if some punishment was deserved, it was still unnerving to think of a classmate in these walls. This was someone he had competed against in Quidditch and attended class with for years.

Even now that his feelings towards him had mellowed from the hatred he’d felt in his younger years, he couldn’t find himself liking Malfoy. But, he also couldn’t help but feel a sense of connection to him. Maybe it was all the years of fighting in their youth, maybe it was the stalking and taunting, or maybe it was the last year of the war when Harry had understood how perilous Malfoy’s situation had been. Or maybe it was knowing that Dumbledore had wanted to give him a second chance and he’d been too afraid to take it, and that moment eventually led to Malfoy locked up here.

He felt a jolt at the realisation that he must have seen Malfoy earlier that day. He looked in every cell they had passed, which meant he hadn’t even recognised him.

Harry hadn’t forgotten that Malfoy was in there, exactly. But, he hadn’t really thought about it either, certainly not in the last week when he’d found out his assignment. He read this file a little more carefully. He was a little over half way through his prison sentence, having been giving four years in Azkaban with an additional two years probation once released. In the past two years, he’d had no demerits for bad behavior; there wasn’t much in his file at all. Just a couple notes that he rarely spoke and had no visitors. Harry made a mental note of the cell number and forced himself to move on.

•○❉○•

“Alicia wasn’t kidding,” Ron said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“What?” Harry said breaking out of his daze. They sat in the staff dining area alone, eating what was left from dinner. Since they were on the afternoon shift for the duration of their rotation, they had quickly adjusted to eating dinner around 8:30 most nights.

“About how boring this is. I thought, you know, these are the worst criminals in the whole country to wind up here, there’d be some… action or something.”

“Yeah, although I’m not sure that’s the kind of action I’m hoping for,” Harry replied, poking at his mystery meat.

“Oh, well, we can always, you know, try to find you someone to hook up with when we have weekend leave next week.”

“What?” Harry replayed their conversation in his head. “No! I mean not that I don’t want… but, that’s not what I meant! I just meant that I feel like I fought half these people for years, I’d rather not keep fighting the same people over and over. It’s kind of a depressing thought.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I’m just so bored. Makes me almost miss the days our lives were constantly in danger. We need a good solid puzzle to solve to save our lives right about now.” Ron took a frustrated bite out of a piece of buttered bread. “How are we going to do this for a year?”

“No idea. Do you want me to come by for chess later after I do my rounds?” Harry asked.

“Sure,” Ron said without enthusiasm. They’d been playing chess nightly and Ron had been getting increasingly exasperated by Harry’s limited playing style. Ron insisted they played the exact same game at least twice already, but Harry couldn’t really tell the difference.

“Ok, might as well go get this over with, I’ll be by when I’m done.” Harry picked up his plate and silverware to put them in the dirty dish bin, where he could only assume it got transported to the kitchen sinks for cleaning.

Ron wasn’t exaggerating about the boredom. They were only three weeks in and Harry was ready to pull his hair out. Their job basically consisted of walking every hallway of the large fortress over and over again. They had to walk the outer areas, disused corridors, and perimeter to look for anything “suspicious” and they had to walk the hallways with the cells and prisoners several times during their shift, as Durum had said, “keep an eye on them.”

The Aurors stationed at the prison also got later shifts and more of the boring paperwork. There seemed to be some tension between the MLE Patrol Officers and the Aurors. Harry got the sense from Officer Heigel, one of the permanent guards, that the MLE officers weren’t thrilled that Aurors needed to be there just so that people felt safe—suggesting that the officers were somehow incapable of keeping the prison safe on their own. So, they got even in their own little ways with assigning out the worst and most dull tasks to whichever Aurors were stationed there at the time. At the end of the day, it was still their ship.

While irritated to learn that his life was going to be just a little bit more frustrating and dull due to this animosity, he didn’t envy them their permanent positions and could kind of understand their position on the whole thing. They’d be here much much longer than him and Ron.

Harry finished walking the perimeter and headed back inside to start going through all the hallways. He always started with the exterior because the blast of chilly sea air was usually enough to wake him up enough to complete the rounds without his head in the clouds. He walked through hallway after hallway and doing a perfunctory check of all rooms that were on the required check. His last stop was the prisoners. Even though they could go in any order they wanted, he always started on the fourth floor and ended on the second so that he was closer to his rooms.

The fourth floor held some of the more volatile prisoners. Harry couldn’t tell if they’d done this on purpose, or it was just happenstance and they got each other more wound up, but it led to him starting off every round on the prisoner blocks with being cursed and occasionally spit at.

He cast a strong _impervious_ and started down the hall.

“Bastard mudblood lover! Blood traitor piece of shite bastard - he’ll come back you know - he’ll come for you - you’ll get yours”

“Hey hey! I’ve got names to trade - just let me talk to someone - I’m telling the truth this time, please!”

Harry worked his way past the on-slaught of the first few cells when he saw spit coming from the fourth cell straight at him. It landed on his charm and slid down. He glanced up at the man in the cell and received an ugly grin full of black and crooked and missing teeth. The man started laughing.

Harry looked ahead and kept working his way down the hall, looking in cells a little more closely when someone was sleeping to ensure everyone was still alive and well—at least as well as could be expected under these conditions. He was spit at a couple more times before he made it to the hall and called a few names he wasn’t even sure he knew the meaning of.

He drew in a deep breath as he closed the heavy door to the hallway behind him. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to that.

The third floor was far less eventful. Some of the inmates paced their cells, others would often be found sleeping or curled up on their mattresses. The elder Malfoys were housed on this floor on the far ends of the hall from each other. So far, they’d stayed at the back of their cells, either sleeping or huddled in on themselves.

Occasionally, an inmate would be balled up in the corner of their cell, crying. Umbridge was generally found in the corner of her cell or pacing around muttering to herself. Harry had once found himself in front of her cell staring in morbid curiosity, but when she suddenly turned and locked eyes with him, he found himself rapidly moving away. Now, he always tried to move past her cell quickly.

He checked the last two cells on the third floor, he’d never seen either of these inmates awake. He wondered if some of the inmates were more active during the day, or if they were trying to sleep their sentences away.

When he got halfway down the second-floor hallway, he paused and looked into one of the cells a little more carefully.

He could barely make out the light blonde hair on the head of the prisoner. The hair was grimy and dirty, taking on an almost light brown-grey tinge. The figure was lying on his side with his back to the rest of his cell, curled up on a thin and dirty grey mattress.

There was a hole in the floor near the corner of the room and a small stone half-circle basin that stuck out of the wall about a foot away. Harry knew from watching other prisoners that they could get a small stream of water from a slit in the stone wall above the basin. Not enough to bathe or wash up, but if they were patient, enough to stay hydrated. If one of the other inmates was to be believed, all the water that came out tasted like dirt and lake water. Harry wondered if it was somehow seawater with the salt removed, as there didn’t seem to be any other water sources for the island. He’d been using _aguamenti_ since arriving, but the prisoners, obviously, did not have access to their wands or magic.

Malfoy had been in this same position every time Harry walked by, to the point that at the end of his first week, Harry had momentarily panicked and wondered if he was dead and no one noticed. He quickly cast a spell to determine that he was, in fact, alive and just sleeping. He then had silently cast a basic health diagnostic spell that Aurors were all taught for fieldwork. It wasn’t like running a full panel, but it could give the casting Auror a high-level overview of an individual’s health. According to the spell, Malfoy had not been in danger but was slightly malnourished and slightly dehydrated. Not enough to be at risk, but enough to weaken him and probably feel fairly terrible.

Running this charm had become a bit of a habit for Harry now every time he went by Malfoy’s cell. He always cast it silently after making sure no one was around or paying attention. It always came back the same.

A few days ago, he’d checked a few other inmates randomly and they all came back within a similar range of both malnourishment and dehydration. They were not at a dangerous level and, Harry thought bitterly, were probably close to what Harry’s range would have been at any point living with the Dursleys. Regardless of any of the crimes that had been committed that landed these inmates in here, starving people, even just a little, would never sit right with Harry. He wondered if he could find out about the type and quantity of rations they were given.

He cast his nightly diagnosis spells on Malfoy and saw that tonight was no difference. Harry exhaled and then continued his rounds.


	2. Chapter 2

“Check mate,” Ron said flatly.

Harry just nodded and looked up at the ceiling of their shared office.

The weeks were beginning to blur into one another. Harry felt like he was losing all track of time. The one week he hadn’t been diligent about marking off dates on his makeshift calendar caused him to be off for days, having no idea what day of the week it was any more.

It was particularly bad because they only had one weekend off each month, so everything just kind of bled together. Harry was pretty sure it had been three weeks since they had their first weekend leave and nearly two months that they’d been there. He made a mental note to pick up a calendar the next time he was home.

They’d both spent their first leave at The Burrow, happy for the company, noise and energy of the place. But, then it was right back to the same—every day passing exactly like the last.

“We need to get some different games, maybe even some Muggle games during our next weekend leave,” Harry said. The idea of playing one more game of chess was enough to consider throwing himself right into the rough sea.

“Yeah, I guess. We need _something_ that’s for sure.” Ron fiddled with his pieces, bent over the chess board. They’d brought the chess board into their office to try to stave off some of the infinite amount of boredom between their patrols.

“I think Umbridge tried to talk to me today,” Harry said.

“What? What did you say?”

“Nothing, I just kept walking.”

“Yeah. She definitely deserves this place.” Ron sat back and crossed his legs. “I feel just a little bit better every time I walk by her cell, you know.” He gave Harry a grin.

Harry just shrugged.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked.

“It’s just this place, you know? I knew it wasn’t going to be great, but I thought with the dementors gone it would be more…. I don’t know… humane?”

“Oh Merlin, you aren’t going to start getting all Hermione and Spew on me now are you? It’s not like these are people locked up for shoplifting or a basic slip of the Statute of Secrecy, you know? These are Death Eaters, Harry. The worst of the worst—they are in here for murder and torturing people.”

“I know that, I do.” Harry looked up at the ceiling again. “But just because they are scum, does that mean it’s okay?”

“Are you seriously telling me that you want Umbridge to have it easier?” Ron asked incredulously.

“No! Yes. Maybe- I don’t know! It just feels wrong. Everyone here is underfed and just a little sick on top of being completely in solitary confinement all the time. I don’t know a lot about this, but I remember listening in on a documentary back with the Dursleys on prisons and it kept saying how inhumane solitary confinement is. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember them saying it can cause a whole bunch of psychological and even health issues and a lot of experts considered it a form of torture.

“And I know maybe this is… It’s possible that it’s because I know a little bit of what that’s like… never having quite enough to eat, being cold and not being able to get warm enough at night, being alone for days and sometimes weeks on end. So maybe this is my own stuff getting in the way here, but it just doesn’t feel right to do to another human being. I’m not comfortable with it.” Harry closed his eyes for a moment and tried to settle down his breathing. That really was the crux of it—feeling like he was doling out the punishment he lived through to all these people over and over again.

“Yeah, but Harry,” Ron looked at him with concern, “You were a child. That’s not the same. They should have never done those things to you, it’s bloody awful and you know I’d hex them for you in a heartbeat if you ever said the word, but this isn’t you this is happening to. These are hardened criminals who have done horrible things and deserve to pay.”

Harry just nodded. He knew Ron wasn’t going to understand, which is why he hadn’t said anything before.

For Harry, it had come to a head a week ago when he went into the kitchens to inquire about portion sizes and content. He’s not sure exactly what he expected, but what he found were three house elves that made Kreacher seem like a kind and happy soul. They were miserable beings who had been working at Azkaban for over 50 years, through years and years with dementors.

When Harry dared to inquire if they might want to work somewhere else after learning about them working with dementors for so long, somewhere they might be happier, one particularly ugly looking house elf came up to him and asked, “Then who is going to make sure all the nasty wizards and witches upstairs suffer? Who is going to make their food so terrible that they can barely eat it, but edible enough to survive?” The other two cackled and then went back to work.

He left the kitchens quickly, feeling like he might sick up if he didn’t get far from there. He received a similar, although more politic, reply from Officer Durum that the prisoner’s comforts were not of their concern. They kept them healthy and alive to see out their sentence, which was more than the Dementors had done with most.

Harry left it alone. When he thought about it more rationally, he wasn’t sure this was the hill he wanted to die on—fighting for prisoner rights for Death Eaters and murderers—those he’d been trying so hard to put away behind these bars even _before_ he was an Auror.

Harry checked the time. “‘I’ll take the last round tonight, if you get it tomorrow.”

“Done, I definitely don’t want to go outside at the moment,” said Ron, hiding the chess set away in one of the desk drawers to at least pretend they did work in there. “I still don’t understand why we have to walk the perimeter, it’s not like the million wards and charms they have around this place wouldn’t set off if a bird so much as flew into them wrong.”

“Probably just another way to screw the Aurors,” Harry laughed.

“Ohhh, you’re probably right. I wonder if the other officers even do a perimeter check,” Ron said, with a look like he was thinking really hard, possibly trying to remember if he’d ever seen anyone else do those.

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” Harry said with a chuckle.

“As always.” Ron gave a half wave as Harry walked out of their office.

Harry was grateful for the cold blast of October air as he stepped through the main doors. After he let the air refresh him, he cast a repelling and warming charm to combat the wind and cold. He walked his normal path around the building, looking out at the water occasionally, and found himself deep in thought. He felt that his moral compass was warning him that things were wrong, this was wrong, but he also felt so screwed up from his own childhood baggage that he couldn’t tell if he was being reasonable about this or if it was just an emotional knee jerk reaction to a similar situation.

He went through the rest of his rounds automatically, not really paying much attention, until he found himself once again in front of Malfoy’s cell. He stood there a foot from the bars and just watched him for awhile. He looked so frail. A thin grey blanket, threadbare in spots, covered most of his body, but Harry could see his hip bones jutting out and the sharpness of his shoulder. As he was about to cast his nightly diagnostic spells, Malfoy shuddered. Harry realized he was shivering. He looked around to make sure none of the other inmates were near the bars at the front of their cells; it appeared everyone was sleeping.

Harry silently cast a warming spell and watched as Malfoy’s body unclenched and relaxed ever so slightly. It appeared he was still sleeping, but he looked more relaxed than Harry had seen him since he’d arrived at the prison. He quietly cast the diagnostic spells. Results ever the same.

He went back to his rooms and just wanted to crawl into bed. He curled up under several blankets with warming charms and fell into a fitful sleep.

•○❉○•

“You ready?” Ron looked like he was going to start bouncing in place from anticipation.

“Yes, Ron,” Harry laughed. “I’m ready—let’s go.” He grabbed his weekend duffle and headed out into the whipping winds towards the old wooden row boat, about to take their second weekend leave.

“You staying the whole weekend at the Burrow again?” Ron asked asked they climbed aboard.

“I think I might stay at Grimmauld and just come over for Saturday dinner.” Harry sat down and tucked his bag between his calves hoping that would keep it in place. The waves and wind were much more violent than on their last couple trips.

“You know you are always welcome, right, mate?” The boat picked up speed as they got into deeper water.

Harry had to yell his response over the wind and sea. “Of course, but I kind of want to get started on some of the projects I have so I have an actual home to come back to after this!” It wasn’t exactly a lie, Harry did want to start fixing up the place, but he doubted it would be that weekend. He had other plans.

“Alright! Well just don’t miss Saturday dinner or my mum will- well she’ll probably blame me and yell at me a bunch, so just don’t miss it!” Ron laughed loudly over the roar of the sea.

“Wouldn’t think of it!”

It was amazing how much easier it was to laugh and smile as soon as they were off the island.

“I think Hermione already has my entire weekend scheduled out, I’m not even going to get to sleep in! She’s even scheduling in our cuddling time, mate!” Ron made a face, but Harry could tell that he was really happy to be going home to his girlfriend for the weekend.

“Better you than me! I’m going to sleep in as long as I want tomorrow!” Harry yelled, as the wind ripped around them violently.

“Piss off!” Ron laughed.

They rode in silence the rest of the ride, both hanging on to the sides of the boat as it lurched this way and that. Harry knew the boat was charmed to keep them in, but he didn’t feel quite comfortable letting go of the vice grip he had on the side nearest him.

By the time they docked, Ron had a distinct greenish hue to his face and Harry expected that his hair probably looked like he’d been hit by lightning, given what it felt like when he ran his fingers through it. They stepped into the small shack that housed a floo connection.

“Okay, as fun as that was, I think I’ll be going now,” Ron said clasping his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry laughed, “Understood—I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“See you tomorrow!” Ron disappeared with a whoosh after calling out for The Burrow.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace at 12 Grimmauld Place a moment later. He didn’t actually want to stay at Grimmauld Place this weekend, but he really wanted to go blow off some steam. He was sick of feeling depressed all the time at the prison.

He decided to might need to remind himself that he was only 20 years old and had his whole life in front of him. In the off chance he was able to pull some hot woman or man at the club, he didn’t want to have to do the walk of shame in the morning back to the Burrow of all places. Better to stay at Grimmauld and be able to come home whenever he wanted.

Fortunately, he kept his few nicer outfits for going out at Grimmauld for that exact reason. He went upstairs to shower and change, very much looking forward to a shower that got warm and stayed warm.

•○❉○•

The music thrummed through Harry as he made his way towards the bar.

“What are you having?” the bartender yelled over the music.

“Gin with soda and lime!” Harry yelled back.

“Gin and tonic!?”

“No! Gin and SODA and a lime wedge!”

“Got it!” the bartender gave him a thumbs up as he walked away.

Harry felt someone sidle up next to him and found a very good looking man checking him out. A little taller than Harry, he had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hello.” The man leaned forward to talk closer to Harry’s ear without screaming over the music.

“Hi yourself,” Harry said with a flirty grin.

“Dance?”

“Absolutely, let me just get my drink.” Harry turned around to see the bartender was already setting it down. He threw down some money, grabbed his drink, and let himself be led out to the dance floor.

He found himself quickly pulled up against the man.

“I’m Alex,” the man purred in Harry’s ear.

“Harry.”

“Nice to meet you Harry,” Alex said and then pulled Harry in for a deep kiss. Harry just let himself get lost in it. After two months of living on that hellish island, this was paradise.

They kissed deeply as they ground into one another, looking for friction, hardness.

Alex ground the palm of his hand over the front of Harry’s tight jeans, right over his cock.

“You want to get out of here?” Harry asked as he gasped.

“Lead the way.” Alex nodded his head, looking just as lust-blown as Harry felt.

Harry made his way towards the door pulling Alex with him. He downed the rest of his cocktail in one and set it on an occupied table as they walked by.

They barely made it outside before Alex pushed Harry against the wall and captured his mouth again. Between pants asking, “Your place or mine?”

“Better be yours I’ve nosy roommates.” Grimmauld Place was far too magical to ever bring Muggles back to, so he always banked on being able to go home with whoever he pulled.

“Ok,” Alex said while pushing back up against him. “I’m just a few blocks away.” He finally pulled off and grasped Harry’s hand pulling him down the sidewalk, pulling a cocky grin as he looked over at him. Harry found himself laughing as he was pulled along, Alex clearly in a rush to get to his place.

•○❉○•

“Morning,” Harry said sleepily as he rolled over and found Alex laying next to him. Whoops, he hadn't meant to fall asleep there. “Er- Sorry, I didn’t ask to stay the night, I must have been exhausted. I have to get going though.”

He never quite knew what to do the morning after. Some guys (and girls) he’d been with were totally fine with staying the night, but others got weird and uncomfortable about it in the morning. One man basically just handed his pants and told him to get out of there the minute the deed was done—Harry made sure to avoid him whenever he saw him in the club after that.

“Morning. I don’t mind, you’re welcome to stay for breakfast if you want.” Alex leaned towards Harry and gave him a soft kiss. “Or morning sex.” He flashed Harry that sexy cocky grin that had melted his knees the previous night.

Harry smiled. “As much as I would love to take you up on the offer, I’m only in town for a couple days and I have so many things to do before I have to leave again.”

“Well I’m glad I turned out to be one of those things,” Alex said with a smirk, causing Harry to laugh.

“Me too.” Harry gave him a genuine smile as he got up and put his clothes on. He would have loved nothing more than another round with Alex; he was cute and flirty and damn good in bed. But, he really did have a lot to do before he needed to head back tomorrow, and he was going to spend the evening at the Burrow.

Alex walked him to the door with a sheet wrapped around his waist. “Well, if you are ever in town again, feel free to look me up.”

“Will do,” Harry said and leaned in for another kiss.

As Harry bound down the front steps, he felt lighter than he had in months. A few days ago, everything felt so dire, so end-of-the-world, but as he walked along the bustling street in London surrounded by life, he felt like it gave him a little perspective. He’d just need to keep it together while at the prison and eventually he’d come back to this.

This was the world he lived in, not the world at Azkaban and not the one at Private Drive. He was grateful for the reminder.

•○❉○•

“Harry!” Hermione came running up and gave him a giant, bone-crushing hug.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry said muffled by her hair. He heard a whole bunch of other voices holler out in greeting to him from inside the house and raised his arm from behind Hermione to give them all a wave while he continued to be crushed by his friend.

She looped her arm in his and pulled him into the house and over to an unoccupied portion of the sofa in the living room. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. Better now that I’m off the island for a few minutes. That place really is terrible—I can’t even imagine how bad it was with dementors.”

“Ron’s said the same. It’s terrible they are making all of the new Aurors live there for a year!”

“Yeah, at least we’ll be done and over with it quickly.”

“I suppose,” Hermione looked worried.

“Hey, can I ask you your opinion about something?” Harry worried his bottom lip.

“Of course, Harry, you know I always have opinions,” Hermione said with a laugh. “What is it?”

“I know there’ve been some pretty major reforms of the prison, and supposedly it’s much better than it was, but it still seems pretty terrible.”

“How so?” Hermione looked concerned now.

“It’s nothing huge, but everyone is in solitary confinement day and night—there’s no interaction between any of them. The cells are all warded so the prisoners can hear the guards in the hallway, and the guards can hear the prisoners, but no one can communicate between cells. So, they are cut off from all human contact every day, all day. They are getting food, but I don’t think it’s enough. I’ve-” Harry lowered his voice, “I’ve been casting diagnostic charms on them and they are all slightly malnourished and slightly dehydrated. Again, it’s not huge—it’s not that any of them are immediately in danger, but it doesn’t seem right.”

Hermione nodded and looked thoughtful for a minute. “That sounds rather unpleasant… Harry, can I ask you something, and try to not… overreact?”

“Erm—okay. Sure.” Harry took a steeling breath.

“Do you think that you might be particularly sensitive to these types of things because of, well, things you may have dealt with in the past?” Hermione clearly was nervous about bringing it up so directly.

“Do you mean do you think that I’m reacting to this because it’s basically exactly what the Dursley’s did to me?” Harry asked, fighting back a small smile.

“Yes,” Hermione said, “Exactly.” She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding.

“I’ve considered that. That’s kind of why I wanted your opinion,” Harry confessed.

“Oh, that’s good, I mean that you could realise that. Well, honestly, without seeing the conditions for myself it’s hard to say. I think pretty globally prison food isn’t known to be the most nutritious. If no one is starving or getting sick from the food, it’s probably well within usual standards, even if it’s a bit unkind. The solitary confinement is more difficult—while it’s generally considered inhumane and not a healthy practice, prisons that hold the most dangerous criminals often have to resort to it to keep it safe for everyone, including the prisoners. And, Azkaban would fit that description. I’m just not sure, Harry, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Thanks for listening and letting me talk this out a bit. It’s been really bothering me,” Harry replied.

“I understand. Frankly, this is what worries me about this assignment. I can’t imagine this is healthy for you and Ron to have to live through for a whole year. I wish they’d reconsider the length of their assignments- I really should talk to a few people at the ministry and find out who decided on a year,” Hermione said, ramping up.

“Hermione, wait, I- can you please not turn the Auror assignments into one of your… projects?” Harry said with a grimace, hoping he hadn’t insulted her too badly. “I don’t want it getting back to Robards or Shacklebolt that we’ve been going around complaining about our assignment, and I’m sure Ron feels the same. Just, please?”

Hermione huffed. “Fine. But you two make sure you are taking care of each other. You are my two favorite people and I don’t want either of you coming back at the end of the year as an emotional basket case, understood?”

“Understood, thanks.” Harry leaned over and enveloped her in another bear hug, grateful to be so loved.

“Hey! Get your own woman!” Ron came running into the room, jumping on top Hermione, crushing Harry under both of them.

“You had better not break any of my furniture, Ronald Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice came clearly through the kitchen door, as the three friends burst into laughter.

•○❉○•

A few weeks later, Harry was again doing the last round of their shift. At some point, he had just told Ron he would take the last round every night, if Ron would do the first. For their mid-shift round, they would take turns or occasionally go together when they both felt like taking a walk.

Harry didn’t particularly care one way or another about the first rounds, but he found himself wanting to keep his last shift. He could check on the inmates as they slept and make sure they were okay before someone else was on shift… and really, one inmate in particular. He didn’t want to think too much about why this mattered to him, so he buried those thoughts and feelings down deep and just continued on, every night the same as before.

The night was particularly chilly and Harry had to renew his warming charm twice while walking the perimeter. By the time he made it to the second floor, he was tired and cold. He did the usual checks, cast the diagnostic spell, and cast his nightly warming charm on Malfoy. Just as he was about to turn to leave, he saw movement in the cell. Harry held his breath and stood perfectly still, unsure of whether he wanted Malfoy to see him or not.

Malfoy sat partially up and twisted to look over at Harry, squinting somewhat. Harry could barely make out his features in the darkness of the cell, but saw that he had a scraggly beard that appeared to be somewhat matted on one side of his face. Long dirty hair hung around his face with a few thick twisted strands hanging over his eyes. Harry felt himself recoil slightly at the sight of his former classmate; he was barely recognisable.

They both stared at each other for a minute, no one making a sound.

“Are you real?” Malfoy rasped.

“Yes,” Harry answered quietly. He quickly cast a _Muffliato _around them. He knew he wasn’t allowed to go into the cells without reason, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to give the prisoners anything, as their food was provided by the house elves, but it hadn’t been said that he was expressly forbidden to talk to the inmates. Even still, he was certain it wouldn’t go over well either. At least not unless he was finding a way to make an inmate more miserable—as that seemed to be Officer Durum’s line on things, at least.

“I’m not dead?” Malfoy asked, his voice still rough and breaking, from either disuse or dehydration.

“No, you’re not dead.”

Malfoy sat up and slowly turned around until he was fully facing Harry.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m stationed here, for a year. Auror’s have to do a one year rotation. I’m an Auror, so I’m here for a year...”

“You’ve been putting warming charms on me every night.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Harry’s heart was racing.

“Except a few weeks ago, there were three nights you didn’t.”

“I- I was on leave for the weekend… back home, so I wasn’t here those nights.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know you knew.” Harry practically whispered.

“I… I thought I was dead at first. I was warm for the first time- I thought… I thought my body finally gave up and I was dead. But it was okay because I was warm. But then I wasn’t,” Malfoy said quietly, voice still cracking.

“You’re not dead.” Harry said again.

“Ok.” Malfoy sat there looking at Harry. It was too dark for Harry to guess what he might be thinking or feeling.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” Harry said quietly.

“Ok.”

Harry barely glanced at the rest of the inmates as he exited the second floor block, and headed straight to his room. He feel like he’d just done something catastrophic—he wasn’t even sure if it was catastrophically good or bad—just catastrophic. He went into his tiny bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He needed to pull it together.


	3. Chapter 3

“Mate, are you okay?” Ron stopped filling out some paperwork and turned around to face him.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Harry asked, not feeling at all fine. Ever since he’d spoken to Malfoy the previous night he’d been on edge.

“Because you’ve been like super jittery all day—you keep tapping your pen on the desk and shaking your leg, and acting all stressed out or something. Are you sure nothing is going on?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just- I had too much tea I think this afternoon.” Harry gestured at the empty mug on his desk, hoping Ron hadn’t noticed he’d only had one cup all day.

“Okay,” Ron said skeptically. “You’d let me know if anything was going on though, right?”

“Of course.”

“Alright.” Ron turned back around and got to his paperwork. Harry glanced at his watch, nine thirty in the evening, just a half hour more.

Harry opened another file and pulled out the paperwork. Even though Harry had heard several MLE officers joke that paperwork was the only thing holding up the prison, he had a sneaking suspicion that Ron and he got more than their fair share. After getting through half his stack, he checked the time again and leaned back with a sigh.

“I’m going to go do my rounds now. See you in the morning,” Harry said as calmly as he could manage.

“Okay, see ya,” Ron briefly looked up and went right back to work. Officer Miller had dumped on them the annual audit paperwork earlier that day to fill out for the whole prison, another job that was gracefully dumped on whichever Aurors happened to be stationed there at the time. It was just as dull and boring than their normal dull and boring paperwork. The only difference was there was a lot more of it. Harry wondered if they’d pulled this with the Senior Aurors who had been rotating in and out all last year, or if they’d just dumped it all on Alicia. He couldn’t see Auror Savage filling all this out without a fight.

Harry grabbed his winter cloak and headed outside for what he now thought of as his nightly walk, since the chances of seeing anything suspicious on an unplottable island that was basically unreachable in the middle of the North Sea that had more wards on it than Gringotts was pretty slim to none.

He went through his routine quickly, the perimeter, the disused area of the fortress, an _Impervius_ charm and then the fourth floor block, checking on the inmates on the 3rd floor block, and then finally getting down to the 2nd floor. He did his standard checks down the first half of the hall and then silently cast a _Muffliato_ before stopping in front of Malfoy’s cell.

Malfoy was laying on his side, as he normally did. Harry cast a warming charm over him and saw him stir.

Malfoy slowly turned over and sat up.

“Hi,” Harry said.

“Hey.” Malfoy’s voice cracked in a way that sounded painful.

“Do you, er- do you need any water?”

“I have water, don’t you know?” Malfoy nodded to the trickle of water coming out of the slit in the wall.

Before thinking of whether he should, Harry conjured a mug and filled it with an _aguamenti_.

“Here,” Harry said, holding it through the bars. Malfoy’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move.

“Okay, I’ll just-” Harry levitated the mug over to him until it was hovering right above his hands. Harry noticed Malfoy’s hands shaking just a bit as he slowly moved to grab the mug. He just kept staring at it in his hands.

“Go on, it’ll help your throat.”

Malfoy just looked up at him and back down at the mug.

“Please,” Harry said, not examining too carefully why it should matter to him at all.

Malfoy sat for a moment and then finally drank. He took a sip and then, as if he finally realized how thirsty he was, drank until it was gone. Harry felt relief wash over him.

“Better?”

“Yeah, I- Oh!” Suddenly, Malfoy doubled over, grabbing his stomach and moaning in pain.

“Oh fuck! Malfoy? Oh, bloody hell.” Harry panicked, without thinking he opened the cell door and strode over to him, dropping on his knees and putting his hand on Malfoy’s back.

“Are you okay?”

“Too fast,” Malfoy moaned out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Malfoy just nodded as he breathed through the pain. Harry started rubbing his back soothingly.

A few minutes later, Malfoy started to relax, but Harry continued the slow circles on his back.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, still worried.

“Yeah… I think my stomach wasn’t ready for that,” Malfoy said with a huff, voice still gravelly.

“Sorry,” Harry said again and sat back on his heels.

Malfoy straightened up and looked over at Harry.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know.”

Malfoy nodded as if he suspected as much. “You should probably get out of here before someone sees you.” He held out his mug for Harry to vanish.

Harry nodded and vanished the mug.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Harry held his gaze for a moment before he got up and headed towards the cell door.

“Ok.” Malfoy watched as Harry locked the door with a silent spell and walked away.

The following day the hours dragged on. Harry was all nervous energy. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves from this line he’d been so clearly inching across with Malfoy from the moment he cast his first warming charm, or if it was anticipation about talking to him that evening. He was starting to think he’d lost the plot, wondering if the boredom and solitude had finally caused him to lose his sanity enough that he would be looking forward to talking to Malfoy.

When Harry passed by Malfoy’s cell during the second set of rounds, Malfoy was sleeping as normal, so using every ounce of self restraint he had, he let him be and waiting until his last round of the day to rouse him.

When he finally got there, he quickly cast a _Muffliato_ and the warming charm. Malfoy stirred immediately and slowly sat up.

“Hey,” Harry said in greeting. Ignoring the warning in the pit of his stomach, he summoned a mug, filled it with water and sent it over to Malfoy, who gingerly took it from the air. Malfoy still looked like he didn’t quite trust the situation.

After the entire day waiting for this moment, Harry suddenly found himself with nothing to say and stood there awkwardly.

Malfoy must have been feeling the uneasiness in the air as well because after slowly drinking the water Harry had provided, he cleared his throat.

“So, what has been going on for the past two years?” Malfoy asked.

“Erm- with me?” Harry asked, surprised Malfoy would even be interested.

“With you, with the world, anything. I haven’t exactly been able to keep up on current affairs, as you might imagine.” Malfoy took another long drink of water and held out his mug expectantly. Harry refilled it.

“Oh, erm-” Harry froze, every news item he could think of had to do with the war recovery efforts, and he wasn’t sure that Malfoy would appreciate that talking point given his current circumstance. For the first time, Harry regretted that he didn't really keep up with the news, only getting the major events from his friends.

“How is Puddlemere doing? Last I checked, Grandell was just promoted to starting seeker.” Malfoy offered.

Harry sighed with relief for the safe topic and launched into a recap of all the major changes to Puddlemere United’s line up and then eventually to the League.

Malfoy listened in rapt attention, occasionally asking for clarification or making a comment on a decision that he disagreed with. They found themselves debating a few of the more controversial trades heatedly.

Harry even found himself laughing at Malfoy’s exasperation and sarcastic retorts regarding a few of the Canon’s more ridiculous decisions over the past few years. Once they started talking, Harry was surprised at how comfortable and familiar it felt, even though he was certain he’d never had a conversation with Malfoy that hadn’t ended in hexes, or at least the threat of hexes, in his life.

Later that night as he got ready for bed, Harry found himself thinking about how much he’d enjoyed Malfoy’s company and conversation. And what a surprise _that_ was. Surely it was just because of the circumstances, he thought, it wasn’t like he had many other options for mates around the prison. And while Ron was thankfully assigned there as well, they were quickly running out of things to talk about, and if he was honest, they were starting to get on each other’s nerves a bit. So Malfoy was just a distraction and when his thoughts whispered it was more than that, he decided to not look at it too closely. The better part of his conscious squeezed into his thoughts and reminded him that he should probably stop whatever this was now, before it got out of hand. But even as he drifted off to sleep, he knew in his gut that he wouldn’t.

•○❉○•

“Fucking hell,” Harry said to himself as he closed the heavy door behind him as he left the fourth floor ward. A whole bloody lot of psychos that ward was, he thought. He’d been spit on no less than six times that evening. Even though the inmates couldn’t hear other inmates in their cells, somehow the fourth floor inmates managed to get each other worked up from just looking at one another. Which was fairly impressive, given they could only see maybe two or three other inmates from their cell bars.

He’d been there for nearly three months and this wasn’t getting any easier. At least he had his next weekend leave to look forward to in a couple days.

He slowly walked down the stone stairs that led to the third floor ward, renewing his _impervious_ charm as he went.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door to the third floor ward, and slowly walked through, looking in each cell to ensure everyone was accounted for and still alive. The third floor was often quiet like second floor—at least none of the spitting and screaming from the fourth floor, not that he was taking any chances with his repelling charms.

“Hey-” a harsh voice called out as Harry moved down the hall.

“Hey!”

Harry looked behind him and saw an older man pressed up against the bars, trying to get a look at him through the bars, around the stone walls of side of his cell. Harry turned slightly, but didn’t walk over.

“You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?” the man asked.

Harry didn't recognise him, but he really didn’t recognise anyone here—they all had the same wild look with matted long hair and dirt on their faces. Only the prisoners files and cell assignments had given him any indication of who was where, and he’d only bothered to notice that information for the inmates he knew.

“What if I am?” Harry replied.

“Ha! Well isn’t that something? No matter what you do, we all end up in hell in the end. Don’t we?” The man started laughing. Harry walked out of the block, not bothering to check the other cells on his way out.

His stomach twisted in knots as he made his way down the stairwell. He knew he shouldn’t let anything these people said bother him, but the inmate had struck a chord. Harry would have been lying if he hadn’t been feeling increasingly indignant at having to spend a year in this place. Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he bloody saved the whole of Wizarding England? He tried to calm himself down—this was an Auror assignment and he certainly didn’t want special treatment. Even still, he felt a growing bitterness at this assignment. The only tolerable part of his day was his nightly talks with Malfoy over the past couple weeks. And those left him feeling twisted up in another way he didn’t fully grasp.

As Harry neared the middle of the second floor block, he saw that Malfoy was already sitting up in the middle of his mattress, his threadbare blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Over the past week, Malfoy seemed to have taken to waiting for Harry on his last round. Harry cast his standard noise muffling charm as he approached his cell.

“Hey,” Harry said as he cast a warming charm on Malfoy.

“Hi.”

“How are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Peachy,” Malfoy replied. His voice had started to recover during the past two weeks, most likely from a combination of use and drinking more water.

Harry summoned a mug and filled it with water. He never asked if Malfoy was thirsty; he didn’t want him to have to ask for such a basic necessity. After the first time, they never acknowledged it, but every night Harry gave him as much water as he could drink while they talked. Malfoy still looked too thin and frail, but his skin had started losing some of the greyish flat look it had previously had.

So far, they hadn’t talked about anything of consequence, continuing to stick to safer topics like Quidditch and other boring news that Harry had picked up from the Daily Prophets that were always lying around the main office. It said something about how truly bored Harry was that he was willing to read that rag. Although, lately he found himself reading it more carefully so that he could relay it’s contents to Malfoy.

“So what’s new in the world today, Potter?” Malfoy drawled. A few years ago, that tone would have set Harry on edge, ready to fight, but now he found himself relieved that there was something left of the man. Malfoy wasn’t yet a complete shell of himself as many of the other prisoners seemed to be.

Harry leaned against the prison bars and gave him a run down of the latest Tornados and Harpies game. Malfoy generally just sat and listened, occasionally piping in with a sarcastic retort on any particularly terrible plays.

After he wrapped up the game play by play, he moved on to more mundane news. There was only so much happening in any given day. Harry had taken to reading the newspaper daily from front to back to give him enough to talk about at night. Fortunately, it appeared Ron just assumed Harry’s boredom had reached epic levels as he hadn’t said anything and had started reading the papers when Harry was done with them.

Malfoy sat quietly as Harry finished recounting a story about Mable Primble’s garden that won the Prophet’s Annual Garden competition.

“That’s all the news,” Harry said, not moving. Usually this was when they called it a night, but he didn’t feel like going back to his rooms just yet.

Malfoy nodded.

“I would tell you about my day, but I’m afraid it will only bore you to death,” Malfoy said with a sardonic smile.

“Right. Unfortunately, I’m not sure mine is much better,” Harry replied.

“Try me,” Malfoy said.

“Er- okay. Well every day is pretty much the same for me here, but I usually sleep in, since I work the afternoon shift, I don’t have to be at work until three in the afternoon. Sometimes I read in the morning, but usually I just sleep as much as possible since that helps the time go by faster. Then I go into work. There’s a couple hours of overlap between the day and afternoon shift, so usually there’s a pile of paperwork for Ron and me to fill out.

“We do whatever paperwork they’ve left for us, outside of our normal paperwork. The day guards do their last round at 5 pm and then they take off for the day, so we don’t need to do our first round until six. Ron takes the first round. The next round is a couple hours later at eight, and we either take turns or go on it together, and then I take the last round at ten. Once I’m done with the last round, I’m done for the day.” Harry finished up. There really wasn’t much to say, every day really was tediously similar. But, Harry wasn’t sure how much Malfoy knew about their rounds since he was always laying down with his back to the cell bars, except for during Harry’s last round.

“In between rounds, well… we often play games in our office,” Harry continued with a guilty smile.

“Slacking off on the job, Potter? Wouldn’t have thought you’d had it in you.”

“Yes, well there’s only so much staring at the walls I could do before I cracked.”

“What games do you play?”

“Well, we were playing Wizard’s Chess pretty much every day for the first couple months because that was all we had with us, but Ron was getting pretty sick of playing against me. Apparently, I have ‘limited’ moves and was ‘boring him,’” Harry quoted, getting a smile out of Malfoy.

“So,” Harry continued, “we got some additional games during our last leave. We picked up a few Muggle games since we wanted to make sure they were quiet, and a lot of Wizarding games seem to have too much noise, effects and smells associated with them to be played secretly in our office.”

“What are the games?” Malfoy asked.

“Erm- well they are Muggle games so I doubt you’ve heard of them.”

“Well, no, but you could describe them to me. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow. “Unless- if you need to go, I understand.” He looked like he suddenly remembered their situation.

“No- It’s fine, like I said, I’m done as soon as I do this round anyways, so Ron probably already headed back to his rooms,” Harry said quickly.

He found himself explaining how Monopoly, Scrabble and Uno worked, with Malfoy occasionally asking questions for further clarification.

After explaining for the third time that, no, the Draw Four card doesn’t spit the cards at you or force you to take them, you just have to do it yourself, he checked the time.

“I should probably get going,” Harry finally said. He wanted to make sure to clear out before the next guard rotation came through. By his estimate, they’d be there in a few minutes.

Malfoy nodded, but said nothing. Holding up his empty mug for Harry to vanish.

“Erm- just so you know, I have leave this weekend, so I won’t be here.” Harry wasn’t sure why he felt so guilty about this, it’s not like Malfoy hadn’t managed for over two years before Harry got there.

“It’s fine, Potter. I’m sure you’ll survive without seeing me for a few days,” Malfoy said, his aristocratic drawl back.

Harry recognised it for the defensive gesture it was, but still felt his gut twist. “Okay, well, I’ll see you Monday. Good night.”

Malfoy turned back around, laying down in his usual position.

Harry left quietly, checking around corners to make sure he wasn’t about to run headlong into the night shift guards as he headed towards his rooms.

•○❉○•

“Harry, dear, are you sure you are alright?”

Harry looked up from where he’d been staring at his roast beef to see half the Weasley family staring at him.

“Oh, er- yeah I’m fine. I must just be tired,” he replied.

“Aren’t they letting you boys sleep?” Mrs. Weasley asked, looking worried.

Ron gave Harry a sideways glance, knowing full well that Harry slept at least nine hours a night.

“No, it’s not that, I think it’s just sleeping in a different bed when I’m back here, you know,” Harry said, trying to sound convincing. In all honesty, Harry had no idea why he was so tired. He’d slept plenty the night before at Grimmauld Place. He had originally planned on going out again the night before, but instead just went to bed early. He just felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue.

“You know, we have a bed for you here,” she replied.

“I know, really, it’s fine. I just want to get started on fixing up my house. I didn’t really have the time during Auror training, so even if I just get a little done here and there.”

“I just hate the idea of you in that old terrible house all by yourself.”

“I know, but really I’m fine,” Harry said as sincerely as he could manage.

After dinner, Harry helped Mrs. Weasley clear the table, ignoring her protests that she didn’t need any help. Ron and Hermione were out on the back porch, deep in conversation.

Hermione popped her head in the back door. “Hey, Harry can you come out here for a minute?”

Mrs. Weasley practically pushed him out the door, telling him to go spend time with his friends instead of doing housework.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Hermione said, casting warming charms on all three of them and headed away from the house.

“Okay,” Harry said, a bit worried. “What’s going on?”

“Well-” Hermione looked at Ron for a moment, whose eyes got wide. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Harry, we’re worried about you,” she finally said.

“Oh.”

“We… well, we’re worried that working at Azkaban is maybe bringing up too many of your… issues and that you aren’t really okay,” she stopped walking and turned towards him.

“I’m fine, really,” Harry said firmly.

“You just seem down,” Hermione continued carefully.

“Well, I am working in probably the most depressing place in England right now. So, I’m sure that has something to do with it. But, really, guys, I’m okay, I’m not thrilled with my job right now—and, Ron, I know you aren’t either—but really, it’s nothing more than that.”

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Okay. But, Harry, if that changes, just… please let us know, okay? We’re your friends and you can talk to us.”

“Ok. I mean it though, I’m really okay.” Harry was grateful for his friends, but sometimes they just worried about him too much.

A few hours later, after many hugs and well wishes, Harry headed back home. The house really was a wreck still. He knew he should get started on something, start working on at least one room, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He spent most of Sunday in bed until he needed to head back to the docks.

Monday evening, Harry sat in his office reading through the Prophet. He supposed it wasn’t so bad when half the articles weren’t calling him crazy. He still bristled every time he saw Rita Skeeter’s name anywhere near an article. At first he’d avoided those articles completely, but eventually boredom and the desire to have more stories to relay to Malfoy won out and he read those articles too.

Ron came through the door in a strop. “Can you believe this?”

“What?” Harry asked, confused. Ron was holding up an interdepartmental memo.

“We don’t even get Christmas off! Did you see?” Ron thrust the parchment at Harry.

Harry skimmed through the note, which explained that they rotated for who worked as the Christmas skeleton crew and it was the Auror department’s turn. Additionally, they would be working two back to back double shifts both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day since the other teams would be on leave. There would be only one other officer there over the holiday who would work the night shift solo.

Harry sighed. He didn’t exactly want to spend Christmas there either. But, at the same time he didn’t quite feel the loss that Ron did. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at home.

“Sorry, Ron.”

“Sorry? Aren’t you upset too?” Ron asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, of course- I just mean—with you and Hermione, I’m sure it’s worse.”

“Oh, yeah I guess… But still, who wants to spend Christmas in this place?”

“Yeah, this definitely sucks,” Harry agreed. Ron nodded, seemingly happy that his friend was coming around.

“You want to go get some dinner?” Harry asked hoping to distract Ron with some food. It was a quarter past eight, nearly their typical dinnertime.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They went down to the kitchens, each grabbing a plate to fill up. The elves always left a buffet of sorts under a stasis charm for the guards, since they all ate at different times. Harry grabbed a few pieces of what appeared to be chicken, some soggy green beans and a baked potato. There were some slightly stale-looking rolls next to the trays of food, Harry grabbed one and then, at the last second, after checking that Ron was occupied with his food, grabbed another one, folded it in a napkin, and pocketed it.

A few hours later, Harry was again on the second floor block going through all the news from over the weekend.

“Well thank Merlin for that- Bettledoff was always a terrible chaser,” Malfoy said in response to Harry’s latest Quidditch update.

“He wasn’t terrible _all _the time, the beaters weren’t exactly supporting him!” Harry argued.

“The beaters can’t stop the bludgers when he chooses to run directly into them!"

"That was just one time!" Harry replied.

Malfoy just raised an eyebrow in response.

"Okay, fine, he's pretty terrible."

Harry fiddled with the napkin in his pocket.

"Erm, I brought you something."

Harry pulled the roll from out of the napkin and levitated it to where Malfoy was sitting. He snatched it out of the air and looked up at Harry.

"Probably, er- go slow on this though," Harry said.

Malfoy nodded, eyes wide, and took a small bite.

Harry stood quietly, leaning his shoulder up against the bars, while Malfoy slowly finished the slightly stale bread.

Harry subtly wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his robe. This was definitely crossing a line. He knew the water probably had completely crossed that line as well, but somehow the food felt more tangible. Giving an inmate anything was cause for disciplinary action.

Once Malfoy carefully finished his last bite, Harry refilled the mug that was sitting on the stone floor in front of his mattress. Malfoy looked up at Harry and nodded, possibly in thanks. Like the water, they didn’t speak of it, and Harry found that he preferred it that way—not sure whether it was because it seemed less like he was directly breaking the rules or because he didn't want to have to acknowledge that Malfoy’s basic needs were barely even being provided for.

Malfoy cleared his throat after taking a long drink of water.

"Anything else of interest of happen? Any garden gnome infestations of note or list of boring Ministry promotions?" Malfoy asked with a small smirk.

"Well, now that you mention it, Patricia Knoll did get promoted to Assistant to the Manager of the Floo Network Authority."

"We'll let's hear all about it then," Malfoy said with a smile and leaned back on the wall behind his mattress.

Harry launched into a recitation of all the more boring news he had to deliver.

At some point Malfoy closed his eyes, but continued to nod every few minutes when Harry made some commentary on a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this written a lot faster than expected, so I'll be updating more frequently! Probably a chapter every 1-2 weeks. (I'm still trying to keep some buffer as I finish Part II, so that I'm not leaving you all hanging at the end of this one). :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Harry sat at his desk, bleary-eyed, staring at his paperwork. Fuck it, he thought, it could wait until tomorrow. He put it all back in a stack and pushed it to the corner of his desk, tempted to just keep pushing until it fell right off his desk and into the rubbish bin.

“Morning,” Ron said, as he walked through the door with two steaming cups of tea. He sat down and rifled through his pockets, until he pulled out a brown lumpy and odd shaped package and tossed it over to Harry.

“What’s this?” Harry asked.

“We’re not bloody well skipping Christmas just because we have to work two back to back double shifts,” Ron huffed.

“Oh!” Harry laughed. “Sorry I didn’t realize this was a present.” He pulled out his bottom drawer and removed a large package wrapped in green and red paper with a gold bow.

“Show off. I forgot to wrap it before I got back here and had to make do with packing paper.” Ron grinned, taking his present.

Harry pulled open the brown package and revealed a skein of yarn and two knitting needles. He looked up at Ron confused.

“Well you’ve been bored and I thought maybe you could start a new hobby.” Ron laughed. “There’s one more, don’t worry, I just wanted to see your reaction. Although I do have a book on how to knit that you can borrow.” He tossed Harry another package that he’d pulled out of his drawer.

When Harry opened this one, it contained half a dozen paperback novels that looked to be mysteries, one with Quidditch players on the front cover.

Harry grinned, “Thanks, Ron.”

“No problem. Also, I plan on borrowing those when you’re done.”

“Of course,” Harry said, laughing. “And, I probably will take you up on borrowing the knitting book.”

Ron smiled at that and tore at the wrapping paper on his gift, pulling out a large wood box with a chess board on top.

“It’s seven games in one board—they flip over and you can play seven different Muggle games on it. I know the chess set is a bit of a duplicate, but there are six other games and instructions for how to play,” Harry explained.

“Fantastic! Thanks, mate!” Ron immediately opened up the instruction manual and started reading about cribbage.

“I’ll take this round while you read up on that and then you can teach me how to play,” Harry said, finishing off his tea and standing up.

“Sounds good,” Ron said, not looking up from the manual.

Harry walked out into the frigid December air and made quick work of his rounds. When he got to the second floor ward, Malfoy appeared to be sleeping in his usual position with his back to the bars. He cast a _Muffliato_ and sat down in front of the bars.

“Malfoy,” Harry whispered loudly. Malfoy stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up.

“Malfoy!” Harry said a little louder. He wondered if he should let him sleep, but, well, he had been looking forward to seeing him that morning.

Finally, Malfoy looked over, and then looked at the barred up window at the end of the corridor and looked confused.

“It’s daytime,” Malfoy said, slowly sitting up.

“Yeah, I’m working two doubles. I did the rounds most of the day yesterday too, I just didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh.” Malfoy rubbed his eyes.

“It’s Christmas.”

Malfoy looked up, several emotions warring on his face. “Oh.”

“I, erm, I got you something,” Harry said, a little sheepishly.

“Potter… not that I don’t appreciate everything you do, but I think the other guards will notice if I suddenly have something in my cell.” Malfoy said quietly.

“It’s not like that, it’s- well… here.” Harry pulled a small package out of his pocket and levitated it over to Malfoy’s lap.

Malfoy looked up at Harry like he was about to say something else, but decided against it. He carefully opened the package, revealing an orange, a small courgette loaf, and a large piece of chocolate.

“Oh,” Malfoy said softly.

“I know it isn’t much,” said Harry.

Malfoy’s hands shook as he unpeeled the orange slowly. He closed his eyes as he put a piece of the orange in his mouth. His face almost looking pained.

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“I should probably go- Ron will expect me back. But, I’ll be by later, if not the next round the one after. So… after you’re done maybe just hide the peel and paper under your mattress and I’ll vanish it later,” Harry said getting up.

Malfoy looked at him curiously, but nodded his head.

Harry walked quickly away from the prisoner wards, stopping in an empty hallway to catch his breath. He leaned his back up against the rough stone wall and bent over, hands on his knees for support, breathing hard. Merlin, what was he doing? Whatever line existed between prisoner and guard, Harry was no longer inching past it, he’d run right past it.

He didn’t even fully understand what he was doing anymore. He wasn’t friends with Malfoy. They’d been on opposite sides of a war.

Harry knew he was uncomfortable with the treatment of prisoners: the lack of food and fresh water, the barely-there mattresses on hard stone floors, the chilly air and too thin robes and blankets, and, especially, the solitude that was forced on them. He knew some of this was his own baggage—it was all just a little too similar to the hardest parts of his childhood. But, some of it… some of it was just a sick feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t move past at treating another human being this way. And, the worst of it all, was that _he _was the one keeping them there, ensuring they were all just a little bit hungry, thirsty and cold at all times.

He’d never thought much about law and justice beyond understanding how it pertained to his job as an Auror—catching the bad guys and locking them up. Harry had, of course, had a glimpse into how terrible Azkaban could be when Sirius had escaped, but that was the old antiquated system. The dementors were gone now, this was supposed to be better, more humane. And, maybe for some of them, like Umbridge or Rookwood, he could see the point in just having a system meant to punish instead of rehabilitate. But, then there was Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t believe he was beyond help—in so many ways, his path had been set long before he had even been at Hogwarts in much the same way as Harry. Malfoy been raised with hatred and bigotry from the time he was born, made possibly worse by the fact he’d had loving parents. Why would he have ever turned away from that as a child?

Surely there was a better system than this. Harry couldn’t help but feel like this was just another form of torture—a legal, Ministry-backed form, perhaps, but torture nonetheless. And, he wanted no part of it. But, what was he going to do? Even if he threw his famous name behind the cause, he wasn’t sure if it would do any good. The Wizarding population was hesitant to get rid of dementors even after they’d been shown to be dangerous allies—and they were certainly less humane than even the current situation. At the end of the day, it seemed people cared more about feeling safe than if they were supporting inhumane practices.

Harry sighed and stood up, hitting his head lightly on the stone wall.

•○❉○•

Harry woke to banging at his door. At first he’d thought it was part of his dream, but eventually woke up and shuffled towards his door, having no idea of the time. It was light out, but only barely, but that was barely an indication. Even as winter had moved into late February, the sun seemed low in the sky most of the day.

He opened the door to see Ron there fully dressed in Auror robes.

“Mate.” Ron looked unimpressed.

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“It’s four o’clock,” Ron said.

“In the _afternoon_,” Ron continued when Harry didn’t respond. “You were supposed to be at work an hour ago.”

“Oh- crap, okay, sorry,” Harry left the door open and rushed back towards his bedroom to get dressed. The last couple months he’d been having a harder and harder time just getting up and going about his day. Since Christmas, really.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked, just outside the bedroom door.

“Yeah, I just overslept.” Harry hopped into his trousers.

“You seem like you are sleeping an awful lot lately.”

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do here,” Harry retorted. “Are you telling me that you aren’t taking advantage of being able to sleep in?”

“No, but I’m also not sleeping through my shifts.”

“It’s the first time—can’t you cut me some slack here?” Harry fastened up the last few buttons of his Auror robe and strode back into his sitting room, sitting on the chair to put on his boots.

“Okay,” Ron said skeptically. “Just—you’d tell me if something was going on right? You don’t come back to your rooms after your last rounds pretty much ever. You’ve been sleeping all the time and I never know where you are if you aren’t in the office with me. I’m going to be honest, you’ve got me pretty worried, mate.”

Harry huffed. “I’m fine. Yes, we are stuck on this fucking island and I’m bored and it’s got to be one of the top 5 depressing places in the world, but I’m _fine_, Ron.”

“So, where have you been going?”

“What?”

“After your rounds?”

“I don’t know- walks. There’s nothing else to do here!”

Ron looked at him suspiciously.

“What?” Harry practically yelled.

“Nothing. Are you ready? I covered for you saying you’d already been in and just ran had to run back to your room for something, but we should probably get back.” Ron opened the door and waited for Harry.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Harry followed Ron towards the offices. When they arrived in the main office, Durum was leaning on one of the unoccupied desks talking to Nurse Cole and Officers Miller and Thane. Harry had met Nurse Cole on a couple of other occasions, but he generally stayed in his rooms in the evenings.

“Potter, Weasley- join us!” Durum said, gesturing at a large half-empty box of pastries. “We had some visitors from the Ministry earlier today.”

Ron went over and grabbed a large croissant that appeared to be chocolate-filled and quickly took a bite. “Sweet Mother of Merlin,” he said, muffled over his mouth full.

Thame laughed. “Yeah, this place sure makes you appreciate the little things again.”

“Like sunlight and warmth,” Miller said. Durum laughed along with his officers.

Harry didn’t care for Durum; he’d pretty much made up his mind about him on day one. But, Miller and Thame seemed decent enough. Their shifts always overlapped with Harry and Ron’s in the afternoons, so occasionally they hung out with the two officers talking in the main office.

Miller was a little prickly sometimes—particularly about the distinction between officers and Aurors. Harry was pretty sure a lot of the paperwork dump had a lot to do with him. But, Miller didn’t seem to enjoy the suffering of the prisoners. He did, however, seem very set in his ideas about crime and punishment. He’d explained to Harry and Ron on more than one occasion that the prisoners broke the law and, therefore, deserved everything they got. It was all matter-of-fact; there was no cruelty in Miller’s words, just an unwavering stance on the law.

Thame, on the other hand, just seemed to be here for the job. He was a relaxed sort of bloke, only a couple years into his MLE Patrol career, and had told Harry privately a couple weeks ago that they had offered some substantial annual bonuses to officers who volunteered for the guard positions. He planned on working there for a few more years until he could save up enough money for a nice house, and then planned on transferring back to a Ministry-based position.

Harry made his way to the pastry box and found a lemon tart and then leaned up against the wall, slowly savoring it. The food served to the guards might be better than whatever slop was served to the prisoners, but it still left a lot to be desired.

“Since you are all here. The Ministry officials brought some other news with them as well. It looks like we’re going to have a few new inmates joining us in a few weeks. The Aurors had a big bust a few weeks ago of a Neo Death Eater group and the trials are finishing up this week,” Durum said.

“They won’t be in until Tuesday or Wednesday, but we can get a head start on the paperwork and getting the cells ready- not that there’s much to do there,” he continued with a smirk. “We have four empty cells on the third floor and another three on the second. They are expecting that we’ll have four new inmates, so this will put us closer to capacity. We’ll have to talk to the Ministry about whether they want us to start fixing up the old cells on the fifth floor, or if they want to hold off until next year like originally discussed.”

“Just what we need, more stairs to climb,” Thame said.

“It’ll do you some good—keep you from getting soft!” Durum said with a grin, stuffing another pastry in his mouth.

“Not like we can gain any weight around here with the food those house elves serve,” Nurse Cole said with a huff.

“No kidding. I’m not even sure what that was supposed to be last night,” Ron said, joining in on the complaints.

“At least it’s better than the disgusting slop the prisoners get.” Durum laughed.

“Thank Merlin the elves take care of serving and clearing out those trays. I nearly got sick just looking at one of those trays the other day, and the smell is just as bad,” Miller said.

“What do you reckon they serve them?” Ron asked.

“You know, I find myself not really caring,” Miller replied. “It’s keeping them alive. Not a one of them deserves better.” Durum nodded in agreement.

Harry forced down his last bite of tart, throat feeling suddenly dry.

•○❉○•

Harry opened up the door to the third floor ward and was immediately hit with a sickly sweet stench. It wasn’t powerful, but it was definitely there. He walked down the hall trying to figure out where it was coming from, as he got further down the hall, he couldn’t smell it anymore. He backtracked to the door, slowly checking the cells.

As usual, most of the inmates were sleeping at that hour. Harry cast a diagnostic spell on one of the inmates about half way down, it came back normal. He continued to cast on each inmate, slowly working his way back towards the door. Two doors from the end, he got his a different reading: deceased. He cast again, just to be sure. It came back the same. The prisoner was dead.

Harry’s stomach dropped out as his hand holding his wand started to shake slightly. Oh god. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss earlier… but he hadn’t been running diagnostics on every prisoner either. Whenever he’d noticed a prisoner hadn’t moved in a long time he would check that they weren’t sick, but he didn’t really have a method for it; it was just when he noticed. He tried to remember if he’d ever cast a diagnostic on this particular inmate, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t even know who it was.

He tried to pull it together and get into Auror mode. He didn’t even know the protocol in a situation like this. If an inmate were ill, he would call for backup, restrain the prisoner and move them to the infirmary. But, this prisoner was just… dead. Harry’s stomach clenched.

He left the ward and quickly walked to Nurse Cole’s rooms.

Harry knocked on the door and waited a minute. No response.

He knocked harder and then heard a shuffling from behind the door.

“Just a minute!” A voice called out.

Nurse Cole pulled the door open, clad in pyjamas and slippers.

“What’s the problem?” He asked.

“A prisoner is dead.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady and professional.

“Oh, okay. Are you sure they are dead?” Cole asked.

“Yes, I cast a basic diagnostic spell on them twice,” Harry explained.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about that then. Just move him into one of the infirmary rooms and I’ll deal with the paperwork in the morning,” Cole said.

“Er- right. Okay- Thanks,” Harry stammered out.

Nurse Cole turned, closing the door behind him, clearly headed right back to bed as if this were perfectly normal.

Harry took a deep breath and went back up to the third floor. He considered getting Ron for a minute, but to what end? To help Harry levitate a body to another part of the building? That was hardly something he needed help with.

He trudged up the stairs, prepared this time when he opened the door. He cast an air freshener charm as soon as he stepped into the hallway, trying to keep his stomach contents where they were. The smell wasn’t particularly strong, but knowing what it was made Harry’s stomach turn.

After the cell was unlocked, Harry slowly levitated the inmate towards the hallway door and carefully down the steps. The prisoner looked to be a middle aged man, hair and beard both long and matted.

When Harry made it to the infirmary, he placed the body on the bed and looked at for a moment. Harry wondered who he was. He wondered if the man had any family, anyone to bury him, or if he would just be added to another nameless plot in the cemetery on the east side of the island.

He took a steadying breath and went back to the offices. He thought he should probably at least let the night guards know what happened so they didn’t see an empty cell open and raise the alarms.

Harry pushed through the office doors to see Officers Stine and Cleary hanging around the the break area that housed the tea and biscuits, when someone was kind enough to bring some back with them from their leave. Harry had only spoken to them on a few occasions as he was usually ready to get out of there quickly by the end of his shift.

“Hey Potter, you aren’t out of here yet?” Stine asked.

“I- I just wanted to let you know that an inmate died. The body’s been taken to the infirmary,” Harry said quickly.

“Oh, okay. Who was it?”

“Erm, I’m not sure. It was cell 3-18. I let Cole know and he said just to leave him on an infirmary bed until morning, but I just wanted to let you know that’s why the cell is empty,” Harry explained.

“Sounds good. This your first one?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah this has been a weird year—last year we had about half a dozen peg out. There will be paperwork to fill out, but it can wait until the morning. I’m sure Cole will fill most of it out; he’s good about that. You’ll have to sign off on some stuff, though,” Cleary explained.

Harry nodded and turned to head back to his rooms.

“At least this will clear up another cell,” Harry heard Stine say to Cleary as the door shut behind him.

He quickly walked back to his room. When he closed his door behind him, he felt the situation come crashing down on him. He ran to the bathroom and retched up in the toilet. Once his stomach was fully emptied, he sat back against the bathroom wall, shaking, and wiped his mouth on the back of hand.

His thoughts were spinning. He wondered if the inmate had already been sick or if he had some sort of an existing medical condition. He hadn’t been checking on all the inmates daily. He knew prisoners died in the prison, everyone knew that time in Azkaban could be a death sentence no matter how long or short the sentence. But, having someone die on his watch… he quickly moved back over the toilet, his empty stomach heaving.

When his body settled for a moment, Harry finally managed to get himself into bed. As he drifted off, he realized he’d never finished his last round.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry spent the following day in a fog. He woke up around ten in the morning and immediately went back to sleep, setting an alarm on his wand for two in the afternoon. He didn’t want to deal with today, not that he really wanted to deal with any days anymore.

He couldn’t get the smell of the dead body out of his nostrils. He’d woken up in the middle of the night and tried spells, washing his face, blowing his nose; he even tried pushing some water up his nostrils to clear it out. It just wouldn’t come out.

He tried to remind himself he’d seen people die before—people he loved, even. Surely those were worse. Those were tragedies that Harry still struggled with and grieved on even his best days—to have lost so many that he loved. But something about this, about someone being trapped in a situation where they could die slowly simply from neglect, possibly even his neglect, this was a different kind of blow, but one that still struck Harry hard.

It wasn’t grief. It was a culmination of everything he hated about this place. The cold, detached cruelty of it all.

When he got to the office, Ron was already at his desk, drinking a cup of tea, flipping through the Daily Prophet.

Harry sat down and saw a neat stack of parchments sitting on his desk. On closer inspection, they appeared to be the paperwork Nurse Cole had filled out. Harry took a deep breath.

“What d’you got there?” Ron asked.

“An inmate died last night. Well… he might have died before last night, I don’t really know, but I found him last night,” Harry said.

“Damn. Do you know who it was?”

“No. He was in 3-18, but I don’t know who he was.” He stared down at the paperwork.

“He was just dead? What happened? Do they know how he died?”

“No. I don’t know, he was just dead. I’m not sure they care what happened,” Harry replied, not looking up from his desk.

“Mate.”

Harry just nodded. He was trying to figure out where his signature was needed, but the words were swimming in front of him.

“So what did you do?”

“I went to see Cole, and he told me just to move the body into the infirmary.”

Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry finally turned around.

“Why didn’t you come get me? I would have helped.” Ron said.

“I just needed to levitate him. It was fine.”

“Yeah, but still…” Ron didn’t look convinced.

“Yeah…” Harry said, looking back over at the paperwork he needed to sign off on.

Trenton Boveman. The name of the inmate was hastily written across the top of the form. Harry hadn’t heard of him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to look through his file and find out what he’d done. It was bound to be some horrendous things to have landed himself in the prison. And, if it wasn’t horrendous… well Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know that either. There were a few inmates that were sentenced here whose situation wasn’t so cut and dry. Sometimes it was a careless accident that led to someone dying or a fight that got out of hand… And, then in the back of Harry’s mind was always Sirius, wrongfully accused and sentenced. Even Hagrid had spent time in here due to a false accusation and an overly eager trial. Chances were Boveman had been there for good reason, but somehow that didn't make Harry feel better.

That evening Harry insisted to Ron that he was still fine taking the last round alone. He did his rounds much slower that evening, checking every single inmate’s health—even those who were screaming and spitting at him on the fourth floor. There were a few inmates that showed signs of minor illnesses, colds and the like, but nothing serious.

He made sure to complete the whole second floor before going back to Malfoy’s cell.

Harry shakily sat down in front of the bars. Malfoy had been waiting for him, as usual.

“Are you okay?” Malfoy asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. Malfoy didn’t respond, seemingly waiting for Harry to talk when he was ready.

“Someone died last night,” Harry finally said.

Malfoy’s eyes went round, “It wasn’t-” His voice cracked. “My parents, it wasn’t one of them?”

“No! No, nothing like that, oh god, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry said in a rush. He hadn’t even thought about that.

Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“It was someone I didn’t know. I didn’t recognise his name when I saw the forms this morning. But, he-” Harry’s throat was closing up. “The body had already started to smell. He must have been dead long enough to start to smell. And, I had already walked by his cell several times that day, and with as cold as it is in here, he could have been dead for _days_. And, I didn’t notice. I never even checked on him. What if he’d been sick for days and I could have gotten him to the infirmary, but I never even checked?” Harry started shaking.

He closed his eyes trying to keep the tears back and sat there like that for a long while, shaking slightly.

Suddenly Harry felt warmth on his knee and opened his eyes. Malfoy had moved to the other side of the bars and was resting a hand on his knee. Harry put his shaking hand over Malfoy’s, grateful for the gesture.

“Potter, it’s not your fault. This is Azkaban. People die here,” Malfoy said quietly. “Fairly often actually.”

Harry nodded as a tear rolled down his face.

“It isn’t right,” Harry said. “This place isn’t right.”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Malfoy looked at him with a half smile and raised eyebrow.

Harry looked up, confused.

“You are in a prison with the worst criminals in the entire country and you are still trying to save people.”

“Am I supposed to just let people die?” Harry asked angrily.

“That’s what everyone else does.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe not. But it’s easier,” Malfoy replied.

“Well, I can’t.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“How many months do you have left on your rotation?” Malfoy asked, removing his hand from Harry’s knee and leaning his side up against the bars.

“What? Erm, a little less than five months, why?”

“What are your big plans then?”

“I don’t really have any,” Harry said.

“Not going to find a nice witch to settle down with and pop out lots of babies?”

Harry huffed a laugh. “No. Well, not right away for sure. I’d like some time to just… I don’t know, be young and free? Does that sound dumb?”

“Not at all. Tell me what you’ll do when you’re out of here,” Malfoy said.

“Why?”

“Humour me.”

“Erm, well… I’ll be stationed back at the Ministry, so I suppose I’ll start doing fieldwork,” Harry realized for the first time he wasn’t even looking forward to getting out to the field anymore. It felt like everything had lost its luster.

“What else? I hope you aren’t going to turn into one of those Ministry drones who lives and breathes work and never goes home,” Malfoy said.

“Ha- no. At least I hope not. I want to fix up my house.”

“You have a house?”

“Yeah, my godfather left it to me in his will. It’s old and practically bleeds dark magic, but it was his and it’s the only thing I have left from him. I think you were actually related to him- Sirius Black?”

“He was my mother’s cousin. So you have the old Black house then?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Last I heard, it was in major disrepair.”

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly,” Harry said, with a quiet laugh.

“So what will you do with it?”

“For starters, I need to clean out the house. It will be so much sorting. There’s a ton of stuff still left there, and half of it has already tried to kill me. Then, I’d like to paint it some soft colours—like a light yellow or cream. And, get some comfortable furniture. The chairs and sofa in the Gryffindor common room were wonderful, something like that. Something I can come home and just sink into after a long day.”

“Sounds nice.”

Harry closed his eyes trying to visualise this life. “And I’ll go for Sunday dinners at the Weasleys and eat Mrs. Weasley’s wonderful food, and eat until I’m full. And I’ll go out with my friends to the pub on Friday nights, and we’ll laugh and drink and have fun. And I’ll go out clubbing whenever I want and dance with hot men and women, and I can take them back to my house because I’ll have gotten all the Dark artifacts out of there, so it won’t matter if the person is Magic or Muggle.”

“Men and women, huh?”

Harry peeked an eye open to look at Malfoy; he was smiling.

“Not at the same time,” Harry said, smiling. “But, yeah…”

“I prefer men myself,” Malfoy said.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Harry said, surprised.

“Well, it’s not like I could be out and proud back at Hogwarts. Pure-blood, you know? Was supposed to have a nice respectable arranged marriage with a respectable pure-blooded witch and have respectable pure-blooded babies and all that.”

“And now?”

“That’s still a long time out, Potter.” The smile slid off Malfoy’s face.

“Not that long.”

“Well, I have to take it one day at a time here.”

“You don’t ever think about it?”

“Sometimes, but then I remember that I don’t even know if I’ll make it out of here.”

Harry immediately felt sick. “Please don’t say that.”

“I think it’s best to be realistic in this situation.”

“You will make it. You have what? A year and some months left? You can do that. You’re stronger than that.”

“I suppose.” Malfoy looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, we were talking about you.”

“What will you do?”

“What?”

“When you get out of here, what will you do? It’s your turn,” Harry said.

“What you mean after they put me on probation and restrict my wand so that I can’t even get a job and I have nowhere to live and probably starve to death?” Malfoy said harshly.

“Don’t- just pretend that you do- pretend you have somewhere to live and that things are going to be okay. What would you do?”

Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bars.

“I would get a house with a good-sized garden out back. The back of the house would face south, so that there was sunlight all day long. At least when it manages to be sunny anywhere in England,” Malfoy said with a small smile. “I’ll grow every type of vegetable I can in the garden, and always have fresh food in the house. Inside, the house will have a large fireplace, and I’ll never let the house get chilly.

“And I’ll get the softest bed you’ve ever laid in and the fluffiest, warmest down comforter with the softest duvet. I’ll keep the curtains open so that the sunlight can stream in and the room will be so bright during the day. The walls will be painted a light blue, like the sky, and the furniture will be a light wood—something that feels peaceful and cheery. In the summer, I will open the windows and a breeze will blow through the room, and it’ll always smell fresh.

“Connected to the bedroom will be the largest ensuite, with a huge white porcelain tub- the kind you can fully sink into and almost float. And I’ll have every type of bubble bath imaginable, and every day after I work in my garden, I’ll take a long bath- it will be charmed to always stay at the perfect temperature, of course.”

“Of course,” replied Harry, smiling and picturing this perfect home.

Malfoy cracked open an eye just a bit and looked at Harry, “And of course, I’ll go out every weekend and pull hot guys. The absolute hottest, of course.”

Harry laughed. “Of course.”

Harry left before the next shift was due to start their rounds, as always. He walked back to his rooms feeling a little lighter, a little more whole. As he turned the last corner, he saw Ron standing at his door.

“Where have you been?” Ron asked.

“I just went for a walk after my rounds. I needed to clear my head,” Harry replied.

“For an hour?” Ron asked, skeptically.

“Yes, Ron, for an hour.”

“Okay… well I was just worried about you, rough day and all…”

“I’m fine,” Harry replied.

“So you keep saying,” Ron said.

“Well, that’s because it’s still the case. What did you want?” Harry asked a bit defensively.

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out, mate. What’s your problem?”

“Nothing, sorry. I just… like you said, rough day.” Harry ran his hand through his hair. This wasn’t Ron’s fault—he was just trying to help.

“Do you want to come in for a bit? I still think I have a little Ogden’s left over from New Year’s.” Harry opened the door.

“Yeah, sure,” Ron said.

Harry kicked off his shoes and threw his Auror robes over the back of his chair.

“Better make it a double,” Ron said with a grin.

“Sounds like a plan.” Harry returned the smile.

They stayed up too late playing Monopoly and drinking and Harry felt the remaining tension of the last couple days melt away.

•○❉○•

“You sure you don’t want to come to the Burrow? It might do you some good, you know, to be around people instead of criminals all day,” Ron said, as they walked away from the boat and towards the shack with the floo connection on the mainland.

“I’m sure, Ron. I’m going out tonight and getting completely drunk and picking up the hottest person I can find at the club who will have me, and I will not deal with doing the walk of shame past your mother in the morning,” Harry said with a smile.

“Okay, okay. You go live your best life and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ron said laughing.

They’d had a busy last week; the new prisoners had arrived, which meant they’d had to get the cells set up. It didn’t involve much physical labour as only a thin mattress and a rag of a blanket was to be put in each cell, but did involve a series of safety checks on the wards and spells that were on each of the cells. Once the prisoners arrived, there was also the accompanying paperwork, of which Harry was certain that he and Ron had once again gotten the bulk of.

Fortunately, the end of the week came and with it their weekend leave.

Harry had spent the last few leaves holed up at Grimmauld Place feeling sorry for himself. He decided enough was enough. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t one of the prisoners; he could go home and go out and have fun and live his life.

He would push down any residual guilt he had about participating in the cruel prison and remind himself that the prisoners had all landed themselves in there. And, if he felt an uncomfortable squirmy feeling when he remembered that included Malfoy, whose crimes were admittedly less severe and had been committed while underage and under duress, well he’d just have to push that down too.

As he got to the shack, he looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. The early April air was crisp and refreshing, the sun was coming out from behind the few clouds in the sky. It was going to be okay.

•○❉○•

The club was crowded. At the last minute, after humming and hawing for quite a while about where to go, Harry decided to head to his favorite Muggle gay club for the evening.

He put on his favorite fitted dark-wash jeans and a thin black t-shirt, tight enough to show his Auror-physique. Somehow, he’d managed to not completely lose all the hard work he’d put in from his Auror training over the course of the past seven months. Some of it probably had to do with the barely inedible food at the prison. He certainly wouldn’t be getting soft from any weight gain off the food they served.

He pushed through the crowd until he finally got to the bar.

“Double tequila, straight!” he shouted over the music. The bartender nodded and stepped away.

Harry turned towards the dancefloor, watching the mass of bodies writhing and bobbing to the music, lights flashing round in circles over the spectacle.

Once his drink showed up, he downed it in one. Might as well start the night off right. He was about to turn to head out to the dance floor when he felt a hand on his bicep, and turned to see a tall blond man to his right.

“Can I get you another?”

Harry nodded; the man smiled broadly and gestured to the bartender for two more of what Harry had ordered. A few moments later, they both held up their glasses in a toast, and downed them quickly.

“I’m Justin!” He leaned forward so Harry could hear him.

“Harry!”

The man nodded towards the dance floor. Harry grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled him into the undulating crowd. He quickly pushed himself up against the man.

Harry was already feeling the effects of the tequila. He supposed four shots in as many minutes would do that. He melted into the other man, getting lost in the music.

After a couple songs, Harry let his hands wander over Justin’s tight arse, pulling the other man tight against him. Justin leaned in and captured Harry’s mouth in a heated kiss.

Harry felt a moan escape his lips. Harry broke the kiss, intending to ask Justin to get out of there. Justin’s light blue eyes caught a passing strobe just so and Harry was suddenly reminded of grey eyes, illuminated by only a crack of light in the darkness. He felt the air sucked out of him.

“Everything okay?” Justin leaned into Harry’s ear to ask.

“Yeah- let’s just… you want another drink?” Harry asked loudly over the music.

Justin shrugged but looked a little wary. They worked their way back to the bar, and a few minutes later downed another two shots.

“Come on, let’s go!” Harry pulled him back up on the dance floor.

Harry ground up against Justin, savouring every hard angle, every sharp curve of his body. He let himself go, getting lost in the feel of the beat of the music as it pulsed through his chest, the hard body pressed against him, the lights as they flashed past his eyes. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel as one song turned into another into another.

“God you’re fucking hot,” Justin groaned into Harry’s ear. “Come on.”

Harry let himself get pulled out of the club.

“My place?” Justin asked, pulling Harry into another messy kiss.

Harry shook his head and silently dragged the other man past the small crowd gathering outside the club and around the corner, pulling him deep into the alley. Harry pushed him against the wall and dropped to his knees.

Justin moaned and dropped his head back against the brick wall.

Harry made quick work of his flies, quickly freeing Justin’s already swollen cock. He nuzzled against his crotch for a moment, getting a hitched breath in response.

Harry looked up and without breaking eye contact quickly swallowed him to the root. He set up a fast and hard pace, sucking and bobbing and humming around him.

Harry closed his eyes and found a different man flash into his thoughts—light eyes, light blond hair. Not the Malfoy of the prison, not with his too frail body and matted dirty hair, no, this was the Malfoy that had been healthy and young, taunting and sneering, and full of life.

Harry quickly opened his own fly and palmed at his own cock, not slowing down his mouth for a moment. He pulled at his cock, grey eyes flashing in his mind, coming quickly. Jeans open and spent cock still hanging out, he took his hand and increased the friction at the base of the other man’s cock until he was coming undone in Harry’s mouth.

Harry leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up.

“Fuck,” Justin said. “You sure you don’t want to come back to my place? The night’s still young.”

“No, I gotta go,” Harry replied, tucking himself in and zipping up his jeans. His head was spinning and he was still far too drunk to make sense of any of it, but he knew he had to get out of there. Without another word, he walked out of the alley and down the street. He let the chilly early Spring air cut through him as he walked without a location in mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry moved to the next cell and cast another diagnostic spell.

“Mate, once a day is more than enough. I know you do this on your last round also, let’s just leave it. I’m sure no one has developed a deadly illness since last night.” Ron said, exasperated.

Harry didn’t respond and kept moving through the second floor block, casting on each inmate.

While Ron still took the first round and Harry the last, they’d started doing their mid-shift round together, enjoying a long leisurely walk around the exterior of the fortress. As spring turned to summer, the days were longer and occasionally, in the afternoons and early evenings, the sun would cut the chill from the northern air that never quite got warm.

Ron walked ahead and leaned on the door at the end of the hallway, waiting for Harry impatiently.

Malfoy was sleeping in his normal position. Harry cast the diagnostic spell and felt the relief he always felt when it came back the same it had for the last few months. Malfoy wasn’t reading as dehydrated anymore, and while he was still slightly malnourished, the levels were lower since Harry had started sneaking him food when he could.

Harry moved on, slowly finishing the rest of the second floor.

“Finally done?” Ron asked with a huff as they walked through the heavy door.

Harry still didn’t respond. They’d already had enough arguments over Harry’s new methods. Ron insisted he was overreacting and Harry refused to stop regularly checking all prisoners’ health.

“You want to try that new game you picked up last weekend? Ticket for a train or something?” Ron asked as they walked back to their office.

“Definitely. I refuse to look at any more paperwork today,” Harry replied. “Why don’t we grab some food to take back with us for dinner and then we can play?”

“Sounds good.”

They took a turn at the next hallway and headed to the dining room.

Harry grabbed a plate and peered over the food.

“What do you reckon this is supposed to be?” he asked Ron.

“Merlin- I think it’s better if we don’t ask and just pretend that everything is either chicken or beef.” Ron took a large serving of the mystery chunked meat in gravy.

Harry helped himself, as well, and then spooned some over-cooked carrots on his dish. At the end of the table were some apples and the usual semi-stale rolls. He grabbed one of each for good measure and quickly shoved them in his robe pocket.

If Harry hadn’t been concerned about his own health, he probably would have skipped half the meals. Both he and Ron brought back what they could for food from their weekends back home, but it just wasn’t realistic to bring back a whole months worth of food each time. Ron usually brought back enough for about one week of dinners for both of them, courtesy of his mother that they tried to spread out through the month. But, even Mrs Weasley couldn’t quite manage to cook ninety extra full meals in her spare time in the week leading up to their weekend leave every month, and stasis charms would only hold for so long. Kreacher had passed away the previous year, leaving Harry to fend for himself at Grimmauld Place.

Their thoroughly unappetising plates full, they walked back to their office.

Once there, Harry pushed his half finished knitting project out of the way. After four failed attempts and having to purchase more yarn, he finally had something resembling a scarf. It was dark green and soft, if not a little lumpy in spots. Ron had something he was knitting in his desk drawer, but Harry was afraid to ask what it was supposed to be.

He placed his plate on his desk and pulled the game out of his bottom drawer. He’d eventually put a small extendable charm on the drawer to house their ever growing game collection.

They spent a while working out the directions. Harry got confused several times on how he was supposed to take a turn and when his turn ended, but eventually they worked it out enough to play. Each of them picked at their dinner while the other took his turn.

“Just think, in two months and three weeks, we’ll be free,” Ron said wistfully.

“I’m not sure that Robards will consider us free of all obligations,” Harry said with a laugh.

“No, but imagine how great Auror work will feel after this year,” Ron replied.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to getting out of here?” Ron said, looking slightly concerned.

“Yes, of course. I- well, I’m just not sure how I feel about being an Auror anymore,” Harry said, not meeting Ron’s eyes. For months Harry had been questioning whether he wanted to remain with the Aurors after this assignment was done. Some days he was certain he was done, and others he was nearly as certain that he wasn’t and would be happy to go into the field when they were back. Malfoy who generally was pretty content to have any topic at all to talk about was even growing tired of listening to Harry go back and forth about his future career, but Harry had been too worried about his reaction to bring it up to Ron. He kept finding reasons for the past month, in particular, that it was never a good time.

“But… It’s what you’ve always wanted,” Ron said, looking confused.

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Mate, I know this year has been total shite, but it’s not going to be like this! We’re going to be in the field and on cases and catching criminals. Don’t let this bloody assignment ruin this for you!”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I just thought you should know, I’m considering it,” Harry said quietly.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “I don’t really want to talk about it, and I’m not looking for you to talk me into or out of it. I just wanted you to know.”

Ron looked at him for a moment. “Okay. You know-” He took a minute, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks, Ron. Really,” Harry said, feeling a weight come off his shoulders. He was a little surprised that Ron hadn’t pushed harder; it showed how much his friend had grown up over the past couple years.

“No problem. Now let me finish wiping the floor with you in this game.” Ron said looking back at the board with a grin. Harry laughed and picked his cards back up trying to remember which train route he was even trying to build. He should have known better than to pick up any more strategy games to play against Ron.

Within a few more turns, Ron went out and Harry had been thoroughly defeated, as usual. Harry checked the time, it was nearly ten.

“I’m going to head out for my last round. Do you mind putting this all away?” Harry asked.

“Nope, see you tomorrow,” Ron replied, stacking up and sorting all the tiny cards.

“Night.”

By the time Harry reached Malfoy’s cell it was already late. The extra checks on the prisoners over the past couple months were cutting into what time they had to talk in between rounds, but Harry couldn’t, in good conscious, give them up.

Since that incident, they’d found themselves slowly talking less about the news and more about themselves. Harry told Malfoy about his conflicting feelings about being an Auror and his plans with his house. Malfoy talked about his guilt from the war, his fear for his parents, and occasionally his fear of what kind of life would be waiting for him when he was released.

“Hi,” Harry said as he sat down in front of the bars. He conjured the usual mug and levitated over the apple and roll with it.

“Evening,” Malfoy said with a smile, tucking the blanket around him. “What is new in the world today?”

Harry launched in a retelling of all the main news stories and Quidditch games scores while Malfoy ate. As he finished relaying the news that the Minister of Magic got a new cat, Malfoy let out a laugh. His eyes flashed up at Harry and for a moment, Harry was reminded of the club, images flashing through his mind, the alley. Harry mentally shook himself and tried to not let his mind wander down that wildly inappropriate path. He had spent the following morning incredibly hungover and feeling incredibly guilty.

Lately, he had found his thoughts around Malfoy all jumbled up—the snide boy he’d known and hated, the defeated man who lived in this dark, cold cell, the hopelessness Harry saw in his eyes, and, every once in a while, the light that shone through and showed Harry that there was something more to him, that he wasn’t quite broken yet—someone who was interesting and still a little cutting at times, but someone that Harry still found himself enjoying spending time with.

“So, light news day then?” Malfoy asked. Harry snapped himself out of his reverie.

“Yeah, not a whole lot going on today, at least not in the Prophet. But… I finally told Ron I was thinking about leaving the Aurors.”

“Well, that’s more newsworthy. What did he say?” Malfoy asked.

“He… well he argued with me at first, as expected. But, then he came around and said he’d support me no matter what.”

Along with going back and forth about the job itself, Harry had been talking to Malfoy for weeks about how stressed he was about telling Ron the news. Malfoy, amazingly, had not made one snide remark about Ron at any point, although Harry was pretty certain he could see visible strain in Malfoy’s jaw on more than one occasion from the effort of his restraint. Malfoy had only lifted his eyebrow in quiet judgement, or possibly agreement, when Harry had explained that Ron tended to not consider other people’s perspectives sometimes.

“That’s good- that certainly sounds like it went better than expected,” Malfoy said.

“Yeah. I have to admit, I was surprised. I think maybe he’s grown up more than I gave him credit for. I was expecting him to react like he would have years ago, which wasn’t really fair.”

“No, probably not. We’ve all changed quite a bit I would think.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t really feel like it, you know? Sometimes I feel like the scared boy that didn’t really expect to have a long life ahead of him,” Harry confided quietly.

“Scared? Potter, I can’t imagine you as a scared boy ever,” Malfoy retorted.

“I was scared all the time, Malfoy.”

“You did a really good job hiding it. You always seemed so confident and, well at the time I thought arrogant,” Malfoy said.

“I think I was those things too, you know? I don’t think it was ever so simple.” Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago to Harry, but at other times, it felt so raw and recent.

“No, it wasn’t.” Malfoy said quietly.

“What about you?” Harry asked. “Do you feel like you’ve changed most days?”

“Potter, I sincerely fucking hope I’ve changed,” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow. “When I think back to who I was- well, frankly it’s embarrassing. Not only all the fucked up things I did, but how incredibly stupid I was. I believed whatever my family told me, without question. It wasn’t until the Dark Lord was living in my house and threatening my entire family that it even dawned on me for a moment that I might have been wrong—that my parents might have been wrong.

“And, if I’m honest, I don’t know what I believe anymore. I’m not going to pretend I’m suddenly ‘reformed,’ whatever that means anyway, and completely changed every belief I’ve ever had because of years in this horrific excuse of a prison. I don’t know how much of it was right, how much of it is wrong, but there is one thing I’m sure of and that’s that I have no intentions of following blindly anymore. After all the talk of power and influence, to think that my family were just expendable pawns… well, I’d like to think I have developed a little more self respect than my father ever managed.” Malfoy said with a hint of resentment. “So, I really fucking hope I’m not the same person anymore that just believed anything someone with a modicum of power told me.”

“For what it’s worth, I can see that you’ve changed,” Harry said genuinely.

“Well, I suppose if the Saviour thinks I’ve changed, it must be true,” Malfoy said with a smirk.

“Will you stop fucking calling me that?” Harry knew he was joking but shot out a thin stream of water from his wand at Malfoy.

“Bastard!” Malfoy said, laughing and wiping his face off with his thin blanket.

“What are you doing?” A voice came from the end of the hall, causing Harry to start.

Harry quickly turned his head to see Ron standing at the end of the hallway, his face cast in shadow. He hadn’t heard the door open.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, heart racing.

Ron slowly walked over closer to Harry, glancing in Malfoy’s cell for only a moment.

“I stopped by your room to see if you wanted to have a drink and, as usual, you weren’t there. So, I walked the whole way around the island to see if you were on one of your walks that you supposedly go on at night when you are nowhere to be found, but you weren’t there either. Then, I got concerned that something happened to you so I walked through the entire prison looking for you.” Ron said. He never raised his voice, but Harry could hear the barely contained anger underneath.

“Sorry- I didn’t know you were looking for me, I, er- let me just…” Harry trailed off and quickly vanished Malfoy’s mug and apple core. Malfoy had pulled his legs up to his chest, looking more closed off than he’d been in months. Harry couldn’t deal with that now. He needed to get Ron out of there. He quickly stood up and gestured towards the door.

They walked to the end of the hall in long strides and Ron opened the door for Harry, following behind him.

No one said a word as they walked back towards their rooms. Harry could feel the tension and anger rolling off of Ron. He, at least, appreciated his friend’s discretion at waiting until they were behind closed doors.

Harry quickly opened his door and let them both in, casting a strong silencing spell on the door once they were through.

He turned to Ron, who was standing there, red-faced and angry.

“Let me ask this again, what were you doing?”

Harry still didn’t know how to answer that. His brain spun through responses that wouldn’t make Ron more angry.

“Nothing? No response? Well, let me tell you what it looked like to me: it looked like you were sitting there chatting away with a convicted prisoner that you are meant to be guarding. It looked like you gave him food and something to drink and were sitting there like you were best friends.

“That’s what it looked like you were doing today. But, let me tell you what else I think- I think that you have been sneaking Malfoy food for at least a couple of months. You think I haven’t noticed you constantly grabbing extra food and shoving it your pockets at dinner? I’m not thick, Harry, I’ve been standing right next to you when you’ve done it! At first, I thought that maybe you were keeping some extra food in your room. But, I’ve never seen any food in here other than the few things you’ve brought back from leave.

“And, then, I actually did think for a minute that maybe you were giving it to prisoners, but I thought no, Harry wouldn’t be that stupid- he wouldn’t risk his career for this. And, I’ve also wondered what you’ve been doing every night when you say you were taking walks, but you’re my friend and I trusted you, so I tried to put all the nagging doubts I had aside, because my best friend would tell me if something was going on!

“But, really, I should have known. You know, when we first got assigned here, and I remembered that Malfoy was here, I thought, oh Merlin- it’s going to be sixth year all over again, because you never could stay well away from him. But then all year, nothing, not a word about Malfoy. I thought, wow- I guess he’s really grown up. But, NO! I come to find out that not only have you been lying to me all this time, you’ve been chatting up Malfoy every night, bringing him food, water, and who knows what else.

“I’ll bet he’s just thrilled. How long did it take him to manipulate you into this? How long before you started breaking every rule and responsibility of your position here for him?” Ron yelled, chest heaving.

“It’s not like that!” Harry shouted back.

“Oh really, what is it like then?”

“He didn’t manipulate me into anything- it’s not like that!” Harry knew arguing with Ron was going to be pointless. There was no way he could ever understand.

“THEN WHAT IS IT LIKE?” Ron shouted.

“HE’S MY FRIEND!”

“YOUR FRIEND? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! Since when are you friends with Malfoy? Since he convinced you he’s not actually death eater scum and isn’t in here for attempted manslaughter? You know from WHEN HIS ACTIONS NEARLY GOT ME KILLED?”

Harry had no response.

“How long has this been going on?”

“I think you should go,” Harry replied.

“How long?” Ron asked, his voice quiet but dangerous.

“Since October!” Harry finally yelled.

Ron looked like he’d been slapped. He stood there quietly for a minute and then moved over to one of the chairs and sat down, head in his hands.

“Harry…” he said quietly.

Harry felt like he was going to cry. He could barely wrap his head around his own actions for the last year—he understood why Ron was mad at him, he did. He knew he’d broken not only actual rules at the prison, but his actions had been seriously ethically questionable—not only that he’d been supplying an inmate with outside food, but also that he’d shown favouritism to only one inmate. And, he’d lied—to his best friend—for months.

But at the same time, he felt that his ethics and morals had been compromised from the moment he stepped into the prison. Just the act of working as a guard, that supported those conditions, was morally reprehensible as far as he was concerned. No matter what he’d done in his time here would have been questionable at best; there was no path that would have allowed him to keep his conscious clean.

Harry walked over to the other chair and sat down, hands shaking slightly.

“Ron, I know that I’ve done a lot of things here that I shouldn’t have. But, the things you are mad at me about right now, those aren’t the things that keep me up at night. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t sit by and watch someone I’d went to school with for years, someone our age—even if we hated each other—be starved and treated this way. This place, Ron, this place isn’t right. This isn’t humane.” Harry twisted his fingers in his lap, not wanting to see more disappointment in Ron’s face.

Ron sat silently for a few minutes and then finally let out a sigh.

“I know,” Ron replied.

Harry looked up. He hadn’t expected that.

“When we were first here and you were saying everything about their health and dehydration and the solitude and how inhumane it all was, I really thought you were overreacting. I thought they are criminals, and it’s all deserved. But, I’ve also been living here, Harry, and I’ve seen how bad this all is. I’m not sure I think they should have it easy, exactly, but I’m not exactly for inhumane conditions either.

“But what you’re doing- mate. You could get in a lot of trouble.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck.

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

They sat there in silence for some time.

“You aren’t going to stop are you?” Ron finally asked.

Harry looked at his friend. “No.”

Ron shook his head and scrubbed his hands across his face. “Fucking Malfoy… Look, for the record, I completely disagree with what you are doing, but we’ve been friends a long time—long enough for me to know that you are going to do whatever the fuck you want at the end of the day, particularly when it is something you think is right and, for fuck’s sake, particularly when it has to do with Malfoy, so I’m not going to waste my breath anymore. But… can I just ask two things?”

“You can ask.”

“Right,” Ron said with a huff of amusement. “First, can you please talk to me about stuff instead of keeping it all bottled up and then going rogue?”

Harry felt a smile creep up on his face. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

“Good enough, I suppose. And, second, can you not get in any deeper? Please? Just don’t take this any further than you have- you’re taking him food and water, but please don’t do anything more crazy like taking him on walks around the island or smuggling him back to the mainland in your trunk or whatever insane crap goes on in your thick skull?”

“Promise,” Harry replied, feeling at least on that second count he could manage to keep that promise. Regardless of what Ron currently thought of him, he wasn’t crazy enough to do something that would land himself in prison.

“Okay,” Ron said.

“Okay.” Harry nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

As Harry neared Malfoy’s cell the following night, he saw he was curled on his side instead of waiting for him. He quickly cast the diagnostic spell and found him in good health and, according to the spell, awake. Harry hesitated for a minute and then sat down, casting his nightly warming charm as soon as he was settled.

“Malfoy?”

There was no response.

“Malfoy, I know you are awake.”

Harry waited another few minutes, but Malfoy didn’t turn around or move.

“Okay, I’m going to go- I can take a hint. But please at least eat this,” Harry said, levitating a roll over Malfoy’s curled up form, dropping it right in front of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry stood up, but didn’t move for another minute, hoping that Malfoy would change his mind.

“Good night,” Harry finally said quietly as he walked away.

As he got back to his room, he paced for a minute and then finally poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. He knew this mood Malfoy was in was likely due to the incident with Ron from the night before, but he wasn’t sure exactly why he was so upset.

He huffed loudly and sat down, downing his firewhiskey quickly

•○❉○•

Harry trudged up the stairs to the fourth floor to finish his nightly rounds.

A week later and Harry still couldn’t get Malfoy to talk to him. Harry hadn’t even realized how much he’d relied on their nightly talks to get through his days at the prisons. It had been something to look forward to at the end of his shifts. Now, he spent his days dreading another evening where Malfoy wouldn’t even look at him.

And, if Harry were honest, he missed him. He missed the snarky comments he made about Quidditch players and games. He missed the surprisingly insightful thoughts Malfoy had on his own life. Harry missed how he would ask questions to help Harry process his thoughts, as Harry endlessly droned on about his indecision around his career. But mostly, he just missed his presence in his life—even if it was only an hour or two a night.

For the first few nights Harry had given him his space, but by the fourth night, he sat and just talked at Malfoy for nearly an hour, retelling the news in excruciating detail like he had back when this all started. But tonight he was fed up, enough was enough.

By the time, Harry finished his second floor checks and turned back to Malfoy, he had gotten himself fairly worked up.

“Malfoy, enough. You need to talk to me.”

There was still no response. Harry took a deep breath and, double checking the hallway, opened the cell and walked in. When he got all the way over to him, Malfoy finally sat up with a jolt.

“Potter, what the fuck- you can’t be in here!” Malfoy looked around, sounding panicked.

“You aren’t talking to me,” Harry replied.

“You can’t be in here,” Malfoy said again.

Harry sat down right in front of the mattress.

“I’m not leaving.”

Malfoy dragged both hands over his face and then took a deep breath and levelled a stare at Harry.

“I suppose I can’t stop you, Auror Potter.” Malfoy glared at him.

Harry felt his gut twist. “What is that supposed to mean?” Harry couldn’t understand where this was all coming from.

“I just want to talk to you,” Harry said.

Malfoy crossed his arms and said nothing.

“Malfoy why are you being like this? What did I do wrong?” Harry asked.

“Absolutely nothing. I mean, when does Saint Potter ever do anything wrong?” Malfoy spat.

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. After eight months of slowly building a sort of friendship, Harry felt like they were suddenly back in school. And worse, he didn’t even understand why.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked softly. He saw a flicker of something in Malfoy’s eyes beneath the animosity, but the sneer returned almost immediately.

“Why don’t you go find someone else to save? I hear there’s someone upstairs who killed six muggles in a house fire. Surely he needs some extra food and conversation.”

Harry pushed down his anger and refused to react. He might not understand what was going on, but he knew Malfoy was baiting him. At least he’d managed to grow up a little where Malfoy was concerned, he thought sourly.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong,” Harry said as calmly as he could manage.

“Suit yourself.” Malfoy laid back down and closed his eyes.

Harry waited.

Stubborn he could do.

Harry checked his watch every so often and as minutes became closer to hours, his heart started to race. He knew the night guards would be by any minute, but he was afraid if he left now his bluff would be called, and Malfoy would never speak to him again.

That Malfoy had somehow come to matter that much to Harry over the past eight months came as a bit of a surprise even as he played this foolish game of wills.

A few more minutes passed and Harry was barely breathing.

He was going to have to leave _very_ soon.

Suddenly Malfoy sat up. “Potter, get out of here before you get caught, you complete idiot!”

Harry’s felt his eyes widen in surprise.

“For fuck’s sake, I promise I will talk to you tomorrow, just go!” Malfoy said in a harsh whisper when Harry didn’t immediately move.

“Ok,” Harry said quickly jumping up and exiting the cell. Just as he was casting the locking spell he heard voices in the northern stairwell.

He quickly ran to the door at the opposite end of the hall, casting a silencing spell at the door over his shoulder as he ran through, so the guards didn’t hear it slam. He ran through the fortress hallways straight to his room, locking his door behind him for good measure.

Harry leaned up against the door breathing heavy. That had been close.

So much for his promise to Ron not to do anything more idiotic, he’d barely lasted a week.

•○❉○•

When Harry got to Malfoy’s cell the following evening, he was all nervous energy. He’d somehow managed to act calmly enough around Ron so as to not raise any questions all day. While he felt guilty about not telling Ron what was going on after promising he’d try to not keep everything bottled up, he didn’t think it would go over well that he was upset Malfoy wasn’t talking to him after just defending him. Ron would just say the situation fixed itself and now Harry could stop talking to him nightly, which he had no intentions of doing.

He quickly cast his usual charms and sat down, hoping that Malfoy would stick to his word.

Malfoy sat up and turned around as the warming charm washed over him.

“Hey,” Harry said.

“Potter,” Malfoy said in reply.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Malfoy scrubbed his hands over his face, making his beard stick out slightly.

“Look, you have two months and a couple of weeks left until you leave, right?”

Harry nodded.

“Then, just let it go Potter,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s for the best,” Malfoy replied, expression unreadable.

“You said you would talk to me,” Harry said firmly.

“Merlin- you are so damn stubborn, do you know that?” Malfoy said, clearly exasperated.

“I’ve been told,” Harry said as an attempt to lighten the mood.

Malfoy sighed. “Fine, you want an honest answer?”

“Please.”

“You need to stop doing this. You need to stop coming here like we are friends and talking to me and bringing me food and acting like this is all somehow normal. Like we’re mates just hanging out at the pub. In a couple of months, you are going to leave and I’m still going to be here.” Malfoy said.

“This is because I’m leaving?” Harry asked, still confused.

“No. This is because you are a guard here and I’m a convicted criminal and I somehow convinced myself that we were friends. And I’ve been ignoring reality, and it needs to stop.”

“But you are my friend,” Harry said.

Malfoy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for patience, and then at Harry. “Potter- you are on a shitty assignment stuck in a prison in the middle of the North Sea with only a handful of people to talk to. I have no doubt that you would have made friends with a banshee under these circumstances.”

Harry felt his chest constrict. “Malfoy- that’s not. No- that’s not why. I know it’s crazy and completely unexpected, but I consider you a friend because of _you_, not because there are no better options. I like _you_.”

“See this right here- don’t you see how dangerous this is for me right now? I was making it through just fine without you, you realise? I’d shut everything off- my fears, my hopes, certainly any self-respect I’d had left, which wasn’t much to be sure. But I’d shut it all down to survive here for over two years. And then, you come in and treat me like a person.” Malfoy’s face crumpled a bit before he got it back under control.

“And you talk to me just like a normal person, not like a Death Eater, or convicted criminal or prisoner. And then you bring me food and presents at Christmas,” he continued. “And you are going to leave and I’m going to have to go back to this.” He gestured around the cell.

“Draco-” Harry pleaded.

“Hold on- I’m not finished. And I’m going to go back to this and you are going to go back to your life. And you are going to remember that this isn’t your life- that you can go do whatever you want to do, be it staying in the Aurors or starting a treacle tart delivery service. It’s not going to matter, you have everything ahead of you. And I know you think that we are friends, but when you get back into your life you are going to remember who you are and I promise you, Potter, there won’t be room for me in it.” Malfoy said, resolutely.

“That’s not true. You _are_ my friend and it’s not contingent on being on this fucking island!” Harry said angrily. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

“Just stop! Don’t you understand how much worse this is all going to be for me?!” Malfoy’s controlled composure finally broke.

“No, I don’t understand- I don’t understand what the difference is between you cutting me out now and me leaving in two months! It’s not like that’s going to erase over half a year of conversations and friendship!” Harry spat.

Malfoy bit his lower lip and seemed to deflate a little. He sighed.

“You are the most stubborn arsehole I have ever met. It’s different, Potter, because if I cut this off now it might not actually destroy me. I suppose because I’d feel like it was in my control... That it wasn’t another thing being done to me that I had no control over,” Malfoy finished quietly.

Harry hugged his knees up to his chest, not knowing how to respond to that.

“So you want to stop being my friend so that it’s not me leaving you?” Harry asked, thinking he might be understanding a little.

“Well, when you put it like that I sound like a first year Hufflepuff,” Malfoy said dryly.

Harry took a long breath.

“Look, I wasn’t trying to make this harder for you,” Harry said softly. “And believe it or not, I actually care about you, you git. And I know how much you hate talking about what your life is going to be like when you get out of here, but I _do_ want to stay friends... But… if it’s going to make it worse for you when I leave if I keep coming by and talking to you, I’ll stop.”

Malfoy wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and seemed to think for a moment before replying.

“I don’t think either of us should make any promises for the future. I know you think you know exactly how you are going to feel, but you don’t. Besides, I might come to my senses by then and remember that you are insufferable Gryffindor,” Malfoy said with a hint of humour.

Malfoy scrubbed his hands over his face again and sighed loudly. “But, you have a point, and maybe what’s done is done, I guess. So, I suppose I can still handle talking to you.”

Harry felt his lips tug into a small smile. “I mean, don’t put too much strain on yourself by talking to me or anything.”

“It’s dull work, but someone has to do it,” Malfoy retorted. “I suppose I can just consider it part of my sentence, repayment back to society and all.”

Harry laughed. “Shove off, Malfoy.”

“Besides, who else is going to bring me stale bread?”

“True. As a Slytherin, you should at least use me for the terrible food I can provide,” Harry replied.

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

“I thought, perhaps, after Weasley… I thought you might not come back.” Malfoy finally said quietly.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Well, I thought he’d remind you what an idiot you are for talking to me, and that reality would sink in and you’d remember that we weren’t friends.” Malfoy fiddled with some loose threads on his blanket, not making eye contact.

“He definitely reminded me that I’m an idiot, as he often does.” Harry got a huff of amusement as response. “But, he understands—or at least he knows that I’m going to keep talking to you anyways. And, I told him that we were friends.”

Malfoy looked up, seemingly surprised. “You told him we were friends?”

Harry nodded.

“And he was fine with that?”

“Well, he still thinks I’m an idiot.” Harry smiled.

“I might need to rethink my previous held notion that I share nothing in common with Weasley,” Malfoy replied.

Harry laughed, “Oh, shut up.”

•○❉○•

Harry brushed the floo powder off his robes as he stepped into 12 Grimmauld Place. With only two months left of his rotation, this was his second to last weekend leave. He looked around the sitting room at the dusty, old furniture and sighed. He really needed to start on this if he wanted to have a halfway decent place to live when he got back permanently.

He trudged up the stairs and dropped his bag on the foot of his bed. His bedroom wasn’t in as nearly bad of shape as the rest of the house, but it was dirty and dusty from disuse over the past year, and the furniture was old and worn. After tossing his robe over the rickety chair in the corner of his room, Harry fell backwards on his mattress sighing. He could sleep the weekend away like he’d done the past few leaves, or he could get to work.

Harry thought about the conversation he’d had with Malfoy all those months ago. He closed his eyes and imagined the sitting room he’d described with a worn leather couch he could sink into and soft yellow walls. He still wanted that. He imagined inviting Malfoy over and having a place they could sit and be comfortable while they talked—no more stone floors and drafty cells. His chest ached with how much he wanted that.

Harry sat up, suddenly determined, and went back down to the sitting room. He looked around. There was hardly anything he wanted to keep in here. He picked up a small wooden coaster from an old side table and transfigured it into a packing crate. Moving quickly, he went around the room and collected any of his personal belongings, a couple of books and magazines, a few photos of friends and older ones of his parents and placed them gently in the crate.

When he first moved back into the place during Auror training, he’d spent several weekends removing all the magical creatures and pests from the home, and he’d had Bill help him remove some of the more particularly dangerous cursed items from the house. But the house was still full of enough items that could give him trouble, like randomly breaking out into hives or burning his skin. The idea of going through item by item was so exhausting that two years later he’d never started.

He pushed the crate off to the side of the room and in one long sweeping motion vanished the entire contents of the room, rugs and all.

Harry felt a small smile break out on his face at the empty space. Even with the old beat up wood floor and the ancient peeling wallpaper, it already felt more airy and liveable. Alright. He could do this.

Harry wiped the sweat off his brow. Other than a few hours break to get some sleep the previous night, he hadn’t stopped working. He felt an almost manic energy as he went room to room in the old house, digging through drawers and wardrobes to pull out the few things he wanted to keep before clearing out another room. He’d dedicated one of the smaller bedrooms as temporary storage space, putting boxes of the “keep” items in there. So far, there weren’t too many items going in that room.

He wondered why he hadn’t done this years ago. It’s not like Sirius would have wanted him to keep any of the old stuff in this house. Harry realized some of it was probably worth some money had he tried to sell it, but he just wanted to get rid of it all and start fresh. Plus it was infinitely safer than trying to deal with the loads of cursed items in the house.

Checking the time, Harry realized with a start that he should have been at The Burrow already. He was covered in grime and cobwebs and in no shape to go anywhere at the moment.

Making a decision, he grabbed some floo powder and stuck his head in the fire.

“The Burrow,” he called out.

“Harry?” Ginny was sitting on the couch with Bill and Fleur.

“Hi, sorry to call so last minute,” Harry said.

“Hi Harry!” Bill called out. Fleur waved beside him.

“Hello! I was just calling to let everyone know that I’m not going to make it tonight. I’ve gotten myself caught up in a house project. I know it’s really last minute,” Harry said apologetically.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m just on a roll right now and I don’t want to stop work,” Harry answered honestly.

“Okay, I’ll let everyone know. Mum will be upset you know,” she said pointedly.

“I know- tell her I’m sorry and I will definitely come by next month. And the month after that I’m back, so I can come every weekend to make up for it!” Harry promised.

“Okay, have fun. Don’t let anything in the house eat or curse you!” Ginny said with a grin.

“I won’t! I’m just vanishing the lot which is turning out to be significantly safer,” Harry said laughing.

“Seriously?” Bill asked.

“Yep, it’s also turning out to be a much faster way to clean this place out!”

“Well have fun,” Bill said laughing.

“Bye!” Harry sat back and brushed the soot out of his hair, watching some small pieces of paper and a dust bunny fall out too that must have been collected at some point earlier in the day.

Realising he hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast, he unearthed the small flip phone he kept in his bedside table—the only room that was, for the moment, safe from his vanishing spells—and ordered in a pizza. He always ordered it to the neighbors, and then told the pizza place that he had a flat with a back entrance so he’d just meet them in the street. He set a timer on his wand for thirty minutes and got back to work, wondering if he could vanish bath fixtures or if that would cause the water to run everywhere. Maybe waiting on the bathrooms was a better idea. There were still plenty of rooms left that wouldn’t potentially cause a flood.

Harry grabbed the last piece of pizza from the box on the floor. He still hadn’t tackled the attic, but most of the rooms were now completely empty. He realized he probably should have kept at least one chair as he stood, exhausted in the middle of the empty sitting room. He was too exhausted to even conjure one at this point.

He plopped down in the middle of the room and sighed. His body hurt in places he didn’t even know could hurt.

“Harry?” Ron’s head popped up in the fireplace. “Can Hermione and I come through?”

“Sure,” Harry said, still staying on the floor. He was going to be so sore tomorrow.

Ron and Hermione came through, brushing themselves off.

“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed looking at the place.

“Bill said you were vanishing everything in the house, but I thought he was exaggerating,” Hermione said, clearly surprised at the empty space.

Harry grinned. “Nearly every room.”

“Seriously?” Ron started laughing, and Hermione and he shared a look.

“What?” Harry asked.

“We, erm, well, we thought maybe you were just using the house as an excuse again,” Ron said sheepishly.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Ron told me what happened,” Hermione explained. “We were just worried about you.”

Ron plopped down on the floor near Harry and Hermione joined him a minute later.

Harry sighed. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I actually am fine. I’m- well this year has been hard, but I’m not sure that was all a bad thing at this point. I actually wanted to tell you both something, so since you are here… I’ve decided to leave the Aurors.”

Neither of his friends looked particularly shocked. Ron simply nodded in acknowledgement of the news.

“Ron said you were considering that,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, its- I just realized that I don’t want to do this. I don’t want my life to be about all the worst of wizarding-kind, you know? I don’t even want to have to read about heinous crimes let alone deal with all the people committing these crimes. I think it was probably good, actually, getting assigned to Azkaban straight out of the gate, because it made me realise that I still believe in people, and I don’t know, the goodness of people and if I do this, I’ll be surrounding myself with all the worst of people day in and day out. And how long until that breaks me? How long until I become someone I don’t like any more?”

Hermione leaned over and gave him a tight hug. “Harry, I’m so glad you made this decision.”

“Really?” Harry asked, he thought he’d have to convince both of them that this was the right call.

“Really,” she answered, sitting back and smiling.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not still a little gutted that we’re never going to be proper Auror partners, fighting bad guys and hanging about at the office together, but I understand, mate,” Ron said sincerely.

“Ron- I think we’ve spent enough time sitting in an office together to last a lifetime,” Harry said, laughing. “No offense, mate, but I never want to sit in an office with you again.”

Ron laughed loudly and smacked him on the arm, “Okay, that’s probably fair but that first part still stands! Seriously, though, I get it, I really do.”

“Any ideas what you might do?” Hermione asked.

“Not in the slightest, but I don’t figure I’ll be happy sitting around doing nothing, even for a short time, especially after the boredom of this past year. So, I was thinking about just trying to get some other Ministry job while I figure it out,” Harry answered. “Know anyone who is hiring?”

“Not off-hand, but I can ask around,” she replied.

“Thank you, both of you,” Harry said, feeling overwhelmed by gratitude.

“Come here you,” Hermione said, grabbing Ron on her way in for another hug and squeezing them both tightly.

“You know, you probably should have saved a couple of chairs or a sofa,” Ron said when they broke from the hug.

“Yeah, I’ll probably need to do the floors before buying any new furniture. Do either of you happen to know how to refinish hardwood floors?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I’m sure there are books on that. We can go to the bookstore in the morning,” she said as Ron groaned.

“So you’re offering to help then?” Harry asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course we’ll help,” she replied, elbowing Ron in the side when he didn’t immediately agree.

“Yes, yes, of course I will help you refinish floors on one of my only two days off for the month,” Ron said.

Harry laughed, but he was still going to take his friend up on the half-hearted offer.

•○❉○•

“How was your weekend?” Malfoy asked as Harry sent over the mug and food he’d procured from the dining hall. Now that he didn’t need to hide it from Ron, he was able to grab more food, at least of the solid variety. Ron looked unimpressed at the increased quantity of food going in Harry’s pocket, but, to his credit, didn’t say a word.

“Excellent. I got started on my house,” Harry said smiling.

“Did you really?”

“I got nearly the whole place cleared out.”

“In a weekend?” Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yep, I vanished nearly everything in the house,” Harry replied.

“Sorry, what?” Malfoy asked flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really want to keep any of it, and since half of it was cursed…”

“Potter. Are you telling me that you vanished hundreds of years of Black family heirlooms in one weekend? Antiques and collectibles that have been in the family since the middle ages?”

“Erm, yes?” Harry answered.

Malfoy dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

“Half of it was cursed or dark!” Harry defended himself.

“Yes, Potter- half. _Half_ of it was cursed or dark, not all of it!” Malfoy exclaimed.

“Oh, well… it’s done now.” Harry shrugged.

Malfoy covered his face with his hands and started shaking. For a moment, Harry thought he was so upset about the heirlooms that he was crying, and Harry realized these were Malfoy’s family heirlooms on his mother’s side, even if they hadn’t come down to him. He started to feel a bit guilty when he heard a laugh escape.

“You’re just-” Malfoy kept shaking with laughter, seemingly unable to speak.

“Well,” Malfoy said finally calming down a bit. “I suppose you are right, it’s done now. Who needed a handwritten book that was co-authored by Minister of Magic Charles Clarembaut and the Muggle Queen Elizabeth before the Statute of Secrecy went into effect? Or a chalice that supposedly used by Merlin himself?” His laughter shifted into a full-blown giggling fit.

Harry’s stomach twisted a bit. “What?”

“But,” Malfoy said in between giggles, “it’s done now.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned.

“Yes, indeed. So, did you do anything else this weekend other than vanish priceless heirlooms and artifacts of history into nothingness?” Malfoy asked, still shaking slightly with residual laughter.

“Erm, no. That was it,” Harry replied sheepishly. “But the house is empty now and ready to be remodelled!”

“I’m sure. So, what’s next then?” Malfoy asked, and then, “Going to burn down an art collection?” Another small laugh escaped Malfoy.

Harry waited in mild annoyance while Malfoy pulled himself back together.

“Sorry, go on,” Malfoy finally collecting himself.

“_Next_ I need to refinish the floors. Hermione and Ron helped me do some research on the best way to do it using magic. We used one of the smaller rooms as a test room, and it turned out okay, but not great. So, I think I’m going to need to keep practicing in that room until I get the spells down. That’s going to be the next weekend project for next month.”

Malfoy nodded.

“And I still haven’t figured out how to get down the portrait of your Great Aunt. After that, I can start painting, I guess. That will probably have to wait until I’m back for good,” Harry continued. Harry realized the end of his assignment was coming up soon, but suddenly it felt almost too fast.

A heavy silence fell on them, the light mood fully gone. They hadn’t really talked about Harry leaving except for the once.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “Did you make any decisions about what you are going to do when you get back? After you quit the Aurors, I mean?”

“No. Honestly I have no idea. But, I think I might try to get another Ministry job while I figure it out. I don’t want to sit around doing nothing. I think that would drive me mad,” Harry said.

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Malfoy responded wryly. He smiled a small smile at Harry to let him know he was making light of it.

“Only nine more months right,” Harry said seriously.

“Yes,” Malfoy responded, expression guarded.

“You’ll make it. You’ll make it and I’ll see you when you are out.”

“Potter-”

“No, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you will get through this and I _will_ find you when you are done, okay?” Harry said firmly.

Malfoy sighed. “There’s just no use arguing with you, is there?”

“No, and really you should know better by now,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Fine. Stubborn arsehole.”

“You know it,” Harry retorted. Malfoy huffed with annoyance, but let out a small smile nonetheless.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry jumped as the door to the office flew open. Ron came barrelling in arms full with a large paper bag.

“What’s this?” Harry asked.

“I stockpiled on our last leave. This is how we are going to celebrate our last shift in this awful place.”

Ron dumped the bag out on his desk and out came packages of peppermint creams, chocolate frogs, chocolate wands, sherbert balls and more sweets than Harry had seen since their Hogwarts Express days.

Harry burst out laughing and leaned over and grabbed a chocolate frog. “Well done, Ron.”

They’d rushed through their paperwork the previous day so that they could relax and play their last game together in their office and spend their last few hours as Aurors together, since Harry planned on putting his notice in as soon as they were back in London.

Over the last week, they had slowly brought all their games back to their rooms, packing them away for the trip home. Today, they had just Ron’s Wizard’s Chess board left, which seemed fitting for their last game.

“I did the first round before I got here, so we’ve got a few hours,” Ron said, pulling the wrapper off his chocolate wand with his teeth.

“Ok, let’s set up the board then,” Harry replied, with a smile. He was glad to be done with this place, but he knew he was going to miss working with his friend—especially once the memories of all the ways they got on each other’s nerves in such small quarters started to fade away.

They spent the next couple hours laughing and eating far too many sweets. Harry hadn’t felt this happy in months. As the time for their second round came along, Ron cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you take this one?” Ron asked. “I’ll do the last one if you aren’t back by then.”

Harry realized with a start that Ron was giving him the time he needed to say goodbye.

He nodded and stood up. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Hey,” Ron said as Harry started to leave. “You should probably take the rest of this in case you get hungry.” He gestured to the only somewhat smaller pile of sweets.

Harry felt his throat constrict a little at the gesture. “Thank you.” He grabbed several handfuls of sweets and stuffed them in his pockets.

Harry walked the perimeter quickly and through the floors, doing only a cursory glance to make sure everything is in order. When he got to Malfoy’s cell, he quickly cast the muffling spell and, taking a deep breath, unlocked and opened the door.

Malfoy stirred at the noise and turned around, clearly surprised to see Harry there.

Harry sat down next to him with a smile.

“Hi,” Harry said.

“Hi- what are you doing in here?” Malfoy asked, sitting up and wrapping his blanket around him.

“Well, it’s my last day, and I’ll be putting in my notice next week, so I figure they can’t fire me,” Harry said with a smile. “And Ron is covering for me.”

“Weasley agreed to this?”

“He did, and I brought something, also courtesy of Ron.” Harry emptied his pockets. “It’s too much sugar for me, want to help me with it?”

Malfoy smiled and raised an eyebrow at Harry. “I suppose if needs must.” He grabbed a chocolate wand and started in on it.

For the next few hours, they sat and talked.

They argued about Quidditch, which teams were better, which players should be traded, which teams would win next season. They gossiped about the Ministry, of what Harry knew of the different departments and issues going on from either the papers or from various Weasleys that worked there.

The conversation turned more serious as Malfoy talked about what he really hoped his future could look like, about wanting a fresh start, but not being sure he deserved it. He talked about his fears, being afraid of being alone again in the prison, his fears about getting out and having a restricted wand and nowhere to go.

Harry wanted to tell him it would all be alright, and if nothing else he could stay with him, but every time he tried to open his mouth, Malfoy put up a hand and told him to stop. Finally, he nodded, and let Malfoy get it all out, not interrupting anymore.

When the time Harry would normally have been on his last rounds came along, Ron walked by and simply nodded at them both, as he continued along the hallway. Harry checked the time and set a timer on his wand to alert him before the night shift would be through. While he didn’t really think they could do much to him other than fire him, he didn’t actually want to test that theory.

Harry talked about what else he wanted to do with his house. About feeling aimless and uncertain of the future and not even knowing what he wanted out of life. He talked about how for so long his plan was just how to stay alive for another year and that having so many years ahead of him now was sometimes overwhelming.

They both reminisced about their time at Hogwarts and that feeling that life had been more simple, even if it hadn’t felt that way at the time.

When the wand finally alerted them it was time, a heaviness fell over them both.

“Well, Potter, your company this year has been unexpectedly pleasant,” Malfoy said, clearing his throat.

“Yours as well, Malfoy,” Harry smiled, his chest feeling tight. “Take care of yourself okay?”

Malfoy nodded and cleared his throat again.

Harry started to get up, but at the last minute leaned over and wrapped his arms around Malfoy in a hug.

Malfoy froze for a moment, and then put his arms around Harry and held him tight.

“I’ll see you soon,” Harry whispered in his ear.

“Ok,” Malfoy replied quietly.

Harry leaned back and slowly stood up and vanished the wrappers and packaging from all the sweets and the two mugs of water from both of them.

He looked at Malfoy and found himself unable to speak anymore. He nodded and left the cell, locking it behind him, Malfoy’s eyes following him the whole time.

Harry took a few deep breaths as he walked back to his room. When he got to the hallways, Ron was leaning up against his door, waiting for him.

“Hey,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might want some company,” Ron said. “Fancy finishing that bottle of Firewhiskey with me?”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry said.

•○❉○•

_8 months later_

“Agatha, do you know where the league uniform change request form is?” Harry asked as he dug through the shelves that held seemingly millions of forms.

Somehow, it seemed his fate that no matter where he worked there would be endless amounts of paperwork. Even the Department of Magical Games and Sports somehow seemed to be entrenched in unending files and forms.

“It’s the sky blue form next to the marigold form,” Agatha answered from behind her desk, not looking up.

Harry looked back at the shelves and shelves of forms. From what Harry heard, the paperwork had gotten worse over the past few years after some of Ludo Bagman's more ethically questionable decisions and even occasional favouritism towards certain teams was unearthed after he left the department. To prevent a mutiny from the teams, the department now kept a paper record of every single change and decision, down to a change in the height of socks allowed during league play.

“Marigold is yellow right?” Harry asked, seeing at least three different shades of yellow.

“Mr. Potter, it is next to the dark yellow form on the far right shelf,” she said looking over her spectacles with an expression so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he worried for a moment that she was going to give him detention.

“Right,” he said, turning back to the forms and hoping he could find it. Finally finding the dark yellow one, he looked to the left and saw the light blue form next to it. He pulled out the form and saw that it was the right one.

“Thank you!” He said, waving the form as he went back to his desk. He checked the time and saw it was nearly 11 o’clock. The form would have to wait.

He popped his head back around to Agatha’s desk. “I’m taking an early lunch today. I have someone I need to meet up with, and I might be a couple hours.”

She nodded, still not looking up.

“Okay, bye,” he said, awkwardly. He took a deep breath and headed for the lifts hoping he wasn’t too late. When he got to the atrium, he quickly looked around scanning the crowds, hoping he hadn’t missed him.

Harry looked around for a moment and tried to figure out where he could stand so as to look like he just happened to be there. Eventually he settled on going over to the noticeboards, so he could pretend to be looking for a crup sitter instead of just standing awkwardly in the middle of the atrium.

Every time he heard a lift arrive, he quickly looked over. By the fifth lift he was starting to worry that he’d gotten bad information from Martin in the MLE office.

Another lift’s doors opened just then, and Malfoy walked out. He was a far cry from the man Harry had last seen. He was still far too skinny, possibly even more so than when Harry had left, but he was clean shaven and his hair was cut short. He wore a simple, and slightly worn-looking, grey robe with black trousers. Somehow he was both the Malfoy that Harry had known at Hogwarts and also the man he’d come to care so deeply about. He still had his pointy face and aristocratic features, now easily seen without long hair and a beard obscuring his face, but Harry could also see the years in Azkaban in his eyes, in the way he carried himself. This was a man who knew suffering and pain and loss.

Harry noticed that Draco looked anxious as he made his way through the crowd by the lifts. He was clutching a tote in one hand and kept his other in his robe pocket; Harry felt certain that hand was tightly gripped around his wand.

Harry took a deep breath and started to walk towards him.

He wasn’t sure if after all this time Malfoy would have changed his mind about seeing him again, so he thought he’d be better off pretending to run into him. Or as his friends called it last night: stalking, while they also informed him how much they disagreed with him getting his guest bedroom preemptively ready.

Harry moved slightly towards the direction Malfoy seemed to be turning, so that their paths would cross. Finally Malfoy seemed to notice him and came to a stop. His eyes were wide.

Harry walked the rest of the way up to him, trying to look surprised, his heart beating wildly.

“Draco,” Harry said, smiling and suddenly feeling more at home than he had in months.

For a moment, the other man didn’t reply and Harry felt his heart drop. But then he heard a single word, spoken barely above a whisper, that had him fighting back the huge grin that was threatening to break out, and Harry became suddenly aware of just how much he missed that voice.

“Harry.”

_Fin_.

To be continued in Part II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have really enjoyed writing this series. Thank you so much for reading, and I've really appreciated the comments and kudos along the way!
> 
> Part II, "A New Morning's Dawn" will be in Draco's POV and is being posted at the same time as this chapter, if you would like to continue reading the series!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Blessed 12 Grimmauld Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694119) by [Me_Being_Difficult](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_Being_Difficult/pseuds/Me_Being_Difficult)


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